


Holding On To Hope

by IcyPanther



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Action/Adventure, Allura (Voltron) Whump, Angst, BAMF Coran (Voltron), BAMF Keith (Voltron), BAMF Lance (Voltron), Gen, Hurt Keith (Voltron), Hurt Lance (Voltron), Hurt Shiro (Voltron), Keith (Voltron) Whump, Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lance (Voltron) Whump, Pidge | Katie Holt Whump, Protective Coran (Voltron), Protective Keith (Voltron), Protective Lance (Voltron), Shiro (Voltron) Whump, Torture, Whump, angst for all, whump for all
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:42:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25379344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IcyPanther/pseuds/IcyPanther
Summary: There’s a traitor in the Coalition.Lance is the only one who manages to escape the subsequent trap but the rest of his team is captured and they're counting onhimto save them, but Lance knows he can't do it alone (he can't seem to do anything right).  The Coalition cannot be trusted to help, but there are some people above reproach amongst the Rebels and Blades and now it's up to Lance, Coran, Matt and Keith to save everyone.Only, that is, if there's anyone left to save.“Champion will go to the Arena, of course,” the Galran commander said. “And the Yellow and Green Paladins… well, we have seen your skills. You will work for us and do as we command. Otherwise you shall have the pleasure of torturing the other to death and then being killed after. As for the princess... It has been ten thousand years since Alteans lived and your genetic makeup is fascinating. There is so much to learn from you and I know I and my team are going to enjoy taking you apart piece,” his other hand drifted to Allura’s hair, letting loose strands fall through his hands, “by little piece.”
Relationships: Coran & Lance (Voltron), Keith & Lance (Voltron), Lance (Voltron) & Everyone, Pidge | Katie Holt & Everyone
Comments: 377
Kudos: 395





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> **Timeline notes:** later season four  
>  **Warning notes:** graphic depictions of violence, torture, threats of implied rape/non-con (does not happen, but warning here for the implications)

“Pidge, bad guy on your six.”

Lance watched as Pidge pivoted on the hangar floor below, bayard raised.

“Too slow,” he teased, finger already depressing from the trigger on his sniper rifle. “Bad guy down.”

Pidge flicked him off and Lance laughed.

“ _There’s gonna be a real bad guy on your six later,”_ she threatened, dispatching another sentry that stupidly charged her from the front.

“Am I supposed to be scared? What’re you gonna do, tech talk me to surrender? Koala strangle me from behind?”

“ _Watch me,”_ Pidge promised darkly.

“ _Comms for coordination and emergencies only,”_ Shiro cut in, sounding winded. _“Everyone needs to focus.”_

Lance apologized by taking out one of the sentries Shiro had been engaged with, more of them flocking to the Black Paladin than anyone else as though knowing Shiro was still recovering and getting back into the swing of fighting after a few weeks on Voltron’s sidelines and before that… well, none of them really knew since Shiro wouldn't talk about it but they could all assume being the Galra’s prisoner again hadn’t been good for Shiro’s health.

It’s not that he made it a habit of talking on the comms in the middle of a battle. It was just…

This battle was a little one-sided.

And for what was supposed to be a super well-guarded base it was a little lacking and something was tugging at Lance that this was too easy and it was making him nervous and when Lance was nervous he tended to babble and—

He took a breath.

Focus.

Voltron’s Paladins had just… they’d gotten stronger. That’s all it was. They were a well oiled machine, back fully in sync although sometimes when Lance caught a flash of Allura’s pink armor and her whip or Shiro’s black armor with a sick purple light instead of red armor and a sword there was a feeling of loss that he had to force away each time. 

Keith had made his decision and it had ultimately been for the best. Too many Paladins for too few Lions. 

Although Lance then felt a surge of guilt because he knew who really should have been the one to step down from being a Paladin and it wasn’t Keith. 

Andddd he was spacing out again.

Lance swept the hangar space below him once more from the sniper’s nest he’d made up above the main battle to make sure everyone was still doing all right.

Hunk was kneeling at the base of the supposed super weapon Voltron had been dispatched by the Coalition to retrieve, multiple panels on the floor beside him as he needed to access some mainframe to connect the thumbdrive containing a code designed by the Blade to disable it for safe transport.

Lance smirked under his visor.

Pidge had been so _mad_ when she’d been told she couldn’t examine the code ahead of time — above their clearance, apparently — and it was why Hunk had been elected to do that part of the mission even though coding was Pidge’s speciality as he hadn’t threatened to disect it first. That, and the schematics they’d been given for the weapon — a prototype of some ion cannon that was powerful enough to blast through _multiple_ ships and one they could not leave in Galra hands — were huge and watching Hunk lift up said huge panels and parts to put aside, some half the height of Pidge, he had been the best choice.

Pidge and Shiro were effectively on guard duty of Hunk against the hordes of sentries that kept piling in, but for all their numbers they weren’t all that smart, while Allura was covering the area around the Green Lion and making sure no one tried to impend their exit. Lance had been instructed to break away from the group and find a spot to keep an eye on everyone and provide backup as needed.

A quick burst of his jetpacks and some he thought very impressive acrobatics later he was on the narrow catwalk that ran along two walls of the hangar with an exit door and ladder that he assumed led to the roof. 

Perfect.

But as much as Lance loved to pick off the sentries — headshot each time, thank you very much — and keep an eye on his team below, and as well as things were going something still felt _wrong._

He couldn’t shake it.

It was too easy.

And as nice it would be to have a mission actually go the way it was supposed to Lance was far more used to things (sometimes literally) blowing up in their faces. 

The fact they had yet to encounter any real enemy — the sentries were only difficult due to the sheer number of them — and any minute now Hunk would call that the weapon was ready to be loaded onto the Green Lion and then they’d all leave and—

Lance froze.

Wait.

Was… was that the plan?

Had this been a trap? 

Were the Galra lying in wait outside of the base to shoot them down as they all boarded a single craft, eliminating all of Voltron in one fell swoop?

But that meant…

That meant they’d known they were coming.

Did that mean…?

Someone had… betrayed them?

Lance’s hand went to his comms but paused.

No.

It was speculation. He had no proof.

Yet.

Lance turned his gaze from the battle to the roof exit.

He glanced back down; the others had the fight well under control and wouldn’t miss him.

He’d just check real quick. And if there were a bunch of ships, they would know. And if there weren’t…

Then this mission was just a lucky odd one out for actual going according to plan.

Lance dissolved his bayard back into his armor and staying on his stomach army crawled over to the ladder. He made quick work going up it and luckily the only bit required to open the overhead door was the crank of a wheel and Lance was popping his head into a star-studded sky.

Which was just that.

Stars. 

And space.

And he could faintly see the debris field that bordered around the satellite base where Coran was hiding with the castle.

He let out a breath.

No trap.

Just…

Just a far easier mission than intended.

But he supposed it made sense. After all, the Galra didn’t know they were coming because the entire operation had been provided via an undercover agent — Blade or Coalition Lance didn’t know as it was, like the kill code, above his clearance level — and so they hadn’t had the forces to fight back a force as amazing as Voltron.

That’s all it was.

Good information, good planning and good execution.

As if hearing him Shiro cut across the comms. “ _Great work, team. Hangar fully secure. Just waiting for Hunk to finish.”_

“ _Inputting code now,”_ Hunk crackled across the comms. “ _Just a few more ticks.”_

Lance grinned and began to descend the ladder with none of the haste of before. 

He couldn’t believe it was so easy but...

The mission was a success, the universe was saved (from this threat at least) and there was still plenty of time to get back to the castle for Hunk to cook a celebratory dinn— 

_Pain_ exploded without warning; lightning sizzling through his body, fire singing in his veins, and screams of all volumes assaulting his ears.

Lance vaguely felt himself falling, feet slipping off the ladder rung.

He was unconscious before he hit the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Commission fic for Cassandra (30k, cough, turned into 39k ^^;). No spoilers here, obviously ;p But we've got 17 chapters of character development for all and drama and whump and angst and action and I hope to see you on our little journey in easily one of the most complicated plots I have created to tie all back together :) 
> 
> If you are enjoying the fic please do take a moment to leave a comment with what you liked about it. What takes you **minutes** to read can take an author **hours** , if not **days, weeks** or even **months** to create. Please show your authors appreciation for all their hard work, free of any cost to you. It only takes a minute; share a favorite scene, a line of dialogue, a reaction, a prediction… the possibilities on things to comment on are endless. Thank you to those who do so, it means a lot ♥ You guys are the reason I continue to still make myself post and I appreciate you more than words can say ♥
> 
> Fic will be on a two-week update schedule on Sundays, but if any particular chapter has really good comment engagement I'll update in one week instead :)
> 
> 💥 **(Like my works? Want to read even MORE? Visit my[Tumblr, icypantherwrites](https://icypantherwrites.tumblr.com)!)💥**  
> 


	2. Two

The muffled sound of fighting percolated into Lance’s ears; shouts and the whir of lasers.

He…

He needed to get up. 

He couldn’t move.

His limbs were leaden, a strange buzzing echoing in his ears.

Oh. Static.

His comm was out. 

Everything was coming back slowly, painfully, his body tingling like it was made of pins and needles.

But…

It made no sense.

They’d _won._ Hunk had been finishing up and then…

Then…

Lance became aware the only sound now was that of the static buzz and heavy breaths.

And then...

“Surrender, Champion, or she dies.”

Lance forced a hand forward, fingers wrapping around one of the posts that lined the catwalk, and dragged himself a few inches.

His eyes widened.

Shiro was standing down below, listing to the left but his prosthetic was lit up purple and he held it out in front of him no doubt the reason the behind the very much decapitated body of a Galran soldier next to him.

Lance averted his eyes although the sick feeling didn’t dissipate.

Hunk and Allura were lying on the floor behind Shiro, awake, maybe, but neither was moving save for Allura’s hand, outstretched and trembling.

But Pidge…

Pidge was being held by the scruff of her armor like a disobedient puppy by a Galran.

And a gun that could only be called a cannon was pressed to her head. Even with her helmet on Lance had no doubt that a blast from that close, that size of a gun…

Oh _Dios._

And the Green Lion…

Lance had never seen anything like it.

The Lion was on her side, collapsed, with her eyes dim and not a particle barrier in sight.

More Galrans — eight by Lance’s quick sweep — and sentries surrounded them all from every angle.

What had…

What had happened?

What was this?

“Surrender,” the Galran sneered. “Last chance.”

Shiro _snarled_ and Lance jerked back at the sound.

Or, he would have, if his body wanted to respond the way it should.

Or…

Lance flicked his gaze down.

It wasn’t his body.

It was his armor.

The tingling yes, that was him, but the heaviness and sluggishness? 

The Galra had done something to the armor. 

It explained why no one was moving, why Shiro looked a few seconds away from tipping over even with his feet braced and holy _Dios_ for him to be standing at all was… was insane.

Shiro was amazing.

Shiro was also powering down his arm, purple light trickling away, and Lance found himself shuddering out a breath. He hadn’t thought Shiro would do anything reckless — that was Keith’s thing even if Keith wasn’t here — with Pidge’s life on the line, but…

But he hadn’t expected that snarl and sheer _hate_ either.

“Look how the mighty fall,” the Galran said softly, words still somehow carrying. “The revered Champion, bloodthirsty killer, brought down by one little girl. Pathetic.”

“Let her go,” Shiro’s voice was low.

Dangerous.

The Galran didn’t seem scared whatsoever even though Lance shivered.

He dropped Pidge and she clattered to the ground with a low moan.

Like a broken toy.

“Hands on your head,” the Galran ordered. “Or,” he chuckled, “I suppose I’ll take pity on you. Just the one, Champion.”

Shiro glared.

But he slowly raised his prosthetic and put it palm down atop his helmet.

Another Galran moved in, what looked like a handcuff in hand.

A dampener. 

He clasped it around Shiro’s wrist and then gave Shiro a hard shove downwards.

Shiro’s legs buckled beneath him and he fell too.

“Let’s see here,” the Galran said, sidestepping the headless corpse and gesturing for another soldier to follow him, laden with handcuffs. “One,” he pointed at Shiro, the other Galran grabbing Shiro’s hands and yanking them behind in a pair of energy cuffs. “Two,” Pidge, who got the same treatment although hers were cuffed in front, “three, “Hunk and “four,” Allura, all of them now handcuffed and pulled to sitting.

“Four Paladins of Voltron. But where,” his lip curled up as he pivoted in a circle, “is the fifth one?”

Lance’s breath hitched. 

“Not on the ground, Commander Zhao,” another Galran stepped up with a sharp salute.

“He is not aboard the Green Lion either, sir,” spoke another, clapping her feet together tightly. “Lion is secured though, sir.”

The apparent commander’s gaze zoned in on Shiro. “Where is your fifth Paladin, Champion?”

Shiro said nothing, lips a thin line. 

“I said…” he raised his cannon, pointing it at Pidge who glared back at him, unafraid, and well that was one of them, “where is your fifth Paladin?”

Lance swallowed.

What did he do?

If he revealed himself — by shouting, he was pretty sure his voice would carry given how quiet it was as his body, other than his hands since they weren’t incased in armor, were not responding — then he’d end up captured too and right now he was their _only_ hope.

Lance repeated that back to himself.

_Dios._

They were so screwed. What… what did he think _he_ could do? Even Shiro hadn’t stood a chance.

Maybe if his bayard worked he could snipe them all from here before they even realized they were being taken down, but…

But his bayard was dematerialized back into his armor and given that the armor was currently useless he had a feeling his bayard would be too. But still, even if he was useless in attacking he was free, could escape somehow and get help and he couldn’t do that if he surrendered.

But if he didn’t and they hurt Pidge… 

“Five ticks,” the commander said, the cannon heating to a purple glow. “Five…”

Lance swallowed.

He had to.

“Four…”

He couldn’t bargain with Pidge’s life. He didn’t know what the Galrans wanted them for and if it was as simple as eliminating Voltron’s Paladins then they wouldn’t hold back now.

But if it wasn’t that…

“Three…”

And even if it was… 

_Dios,_ he didn’t know what to do. 

Would they really kill Pidge? She was _valuable_ to Voltron and worth far more alive than dead.

Unlike…

Lance didn’t let himself finish the thought.

It still echoed in his mind.

“Two…”

The cannon whined at full charge, light bathing over Pidge’s face. She was still staring resolutely at it, as if daring it to fire, and maybe it was Lance’s imagination, maybe it was the aftereffects of whatever had knocked them out, but her hands were trembling.

She was scared.

And Lance had to do something.

He opened his mouth—

“There is no one else,” Allura spoke before he could, voice even. “It is only the four of us.”

The commander did not lower his cannon but he did not fire it.

Instead he leaned forward, face hidden from Lance, but he could picture the sneer. “And somehow I don’t believe you. We all well know there are five Paladins of Voltron. Where is your fifth member?”

“There is no one else,” Allura repeated. 

Zhao sighed, long and heavy. 

He inclined his head towards the Galran who had reported about the Green Lion.

“Don’t damage her too much.”

That was the only warning before a _shot_ echoed in the room, followed by Allura’s short scream.

Everyone was shouting then and Lance bit down on his tongue to keep his own of Allura’s name locked inside as blood blossomed on her thigh and she tilted sideways, only remaining upright as she fell against Shiro. 

“Let’s try that again,” the commander said. “No lies this time.”

“There…” Allura’s voice was tight with pain. “There is no one else.”

“There’s not,” Pidge’s words wavered but they were hot. “There’s not. It’s, it’s just the four of us.”

“Lieutenant,” Zhao barked and the other reporting soldier stepped forward. “Can you identify the Paladins’ offensive skillsets for all of us?”

“Sir,” the Galran saluted. “Champion attacks solely with his right arm; no other weapon. The Yellow Paladin uses a canon, the Green Paladin a shock katar and the er,” he paused for a second, “the Pink Paladin uses either a whip or a staff.”

“And the Paladin we seem to be short?”

“The Blue Paladin uses a blaster, and in streamed Voltron Show number six he was shown to use a sniper rifle, Sir.”

Lance’s heart stuttered.

Based on the stricken looks on the others faces they had realized the same.

The Galra…

Had watched their shows.

They’d _learned_ about them.

Oh _Dios._ They hadn’t even…

What…

What had they done?

And now...

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Zhao said, cutting through the silent horror rocking them. “Now, where would a Paladin that uses such a weapon possibly be located on a mission such as this?”

Lance barely retracted his hand in time from view as nearly in sync every Galran turned to gaze upwards at the catwalks.

His heart thundered in his chest.

Oh no.

Oh _Dios_ no.

“Get up there,” the commander ordered. “Bring him down. And then…” Lance could see his smirk now, the cruelty in a nearly golden-yellow gaze. “We’re going to have ourselves a lesson about lying.”

Anything else said Lance didn’t hear, his pulse drowning out even the static from his helmet.

What did he do?

 _Dios,_ what did he do?

His hand trembled, fingers curling into a fist.

The rest of him didn’t respond; bogged down by the heavy, dead armor.

Dead like they were all going to be because this was a trap and no help was coming and he was just lying there _useless_ and, and…

And he had to do _something._

Otherwise they were all going to _die._

Lance grit his teeth and _pushed_ his left arm forward with all he had.

It barely moved.

But it moved enough as his hand brushed against his right arm and his fingers lighted upon the release for the lower arm guard. 

It popped open without a sound and instantly Lance felt lighter, the limb moving freely at his elbow. 

_Yes_.

He moved as quick as he could but it still felt far too slow as he released the rest of the arm guards, chest piece, leg guards, boots and helmet, literally shedding dead weight. 

He turned his eyes to the holster in the upper leg guard where his bayard would store itself when not in use and tried to summon it back to his hand because if he could just get that then maybe…

Maybe...

Nothing.

“Come on,” he pleaded, eyes squeezed shut tight. “ _Please.”_

His team — his _friends_ — needed him to do this.

Please.

Just… 

Still nothing.

Except…

There was something else.

Sound.

Metal boots on metal ladder rungs.

The Galrans would be joining him on the catwalk in any moment.

Lance couldn’t fight, not as he was.

And so the only thing he could do…

Was run.

Run and hope he got away and could get help and the Galra wouldn’t take it out on the others when they found his armor and knew he had been here, once, and Allura and Pidge had both lied. 

_Dios,_ please don’t let them get hurt.

Not because of him.

He swallowed thickly, picking up his helmet, and pulling it onto his head, the soft buzz of static and heaviness inevitable but not so bad as before with the rest of the armor gone.

His gaze lifted upwards to the roof ladder he had climbed before. 

It…

It was time to go.

It felt wrong.

It _was_ wrong.

He didn’t know what else to do. He wasn’t strong enough to fight the Galra and he knew, even if he’d had his bayard, all it would take was a gun pressed to someone’s head and he’d surrender same as Shiro, wasn’t smart enough to come up with some master plan to save them on his own. He knew he was running to get help but…

But Paladins of Voltron were supposed to _be_ the help. 

They weren’t supposed to run away. 

“I’m sorry,” Lance whispered.

The words tasted like failure. 

“I’ll… I’ll come back.”

And that was a promise. 

Those words weren’t quite so bitter.

Lance took a breath.

It was time.

Now or never.

One shot.

One chance.

And he stood.

The immediate shouts told him he was now visible.

He didn’t dare risk a moment to look over his shoulder, to see his team, to see their faces (Did they understand what he was doing? Did he look as much a coward as he felt leaving them behind? How… how bad were they going to be hurt?).

He flung himself instead at the ladder, ripped open the hatch, and fled into the star-studded sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are enjoying the fic please do take a moment to leave a comment with what you liked about it. What takes you **minutes** to read can take an author **hours** , if not **days, weeks** or even **months** to create. Please show your authors appreciation for all their hard work, free of any cost to you. It only takes a minute; share a favorite scene, a line of dialogue, a reaction, a prediction… the possibilities on things to comment on are endless. Thank you to those who do so, it means a lot ♥ 
> 
> Fic will be on a two-week update schedule on Sundays, but if any particular chapter has really good comment engagement I'll update in one week instead :)
> 
> 💥 **(Like my works? Want to read even MORE? Visit my[Tumblr, icypantherwrites](https://icypantherwrites.tumblr.com)!)💥**  
> 


	3. Three

Both fortunately and unfortunately Lance did not actually go into said star-studded sky as the gravity device on the satellite kept him grounded (and was what prevented him from being sucked out the first time he’d opened the roof hatch). 

So while it was a good thing he hadn’t been hurled into space since he had no thrusters to speak of to aid in maneuvering, it also meant he was actually still trapped on the Galra base with no way off of it.

He’d slammed the hatch down and twisted the lock from this side to keep it that way, but the Galrans had guns and that wouldn’t hold them for long. 

What did he have?

Lance swiveled his head around.

Empty rooftop, door he’d come through, some sort of electronics posts he had no hope of figuring out and…

And that was it. 

That… that couldn’t be it.

It meant he’d escaped only to wind up trapped and then captured.

No.

There had to be something. 

Lance jogged to the edge of the roof and looked down over it.

To the far right he could make out the large hangar door they’d come through. If he could reach it then…

Then nothing. The Green Lion was down, it was crawling with Galrans and the others were trapped not just by their armor but by energy cuffs and wouldn’t be able to get free even if he caused a diversion.

He looked the other way.

Another what had to be hangar door, this one closed though since Pidge hadn’t hacked them in and one Lance had absolutely no hope of doing so himself.

And so that left…

Nothing.

Again.

The roof door rattled behind him and Lance nearly fell over the side of the building as he startled. 

What did he do?

_What did he do?_

Stay and get captured.

Jump and…

And be lost to the abyss of space. 

But…

But maybe…

He had a chance to do _something._

He had to take it.

Lance turned back to look over the edge. 

The roof hatch _shook_. One more hit, one more blast, would no doubt do it.

Lance took a breath.

And he jumped. 

xxx

“Where is he?”

Spittle flew from the Galran’s teeth and Pidge was grateful, despite the constant annoying feedback from the broken comms, that her helmet was on so it didn’t strike her face. 

Even that though could not override the cold fear taking root in her stomach.

Because…

Where _was_ Lance? 

The Galra had stormed the catwalk where she knew Lance had been (and God, what the fuck, the Galra had _watched their show?_ They _knew_ about their fighting tactics?) but they’d returned without Lance.

Not empty handed though.

His armor, minus his helmet, had been tossed over the edge of the railing piece by piece, and Pidge had seen Hunk wince with each strike and clatter.

So if Lance had escaped the catwalk she knew he must have gone up to the roof because she’d gone over the schematics a hundred times prior to the mission and there was an access ladder to it.

But what had the Galra found on the roof?

Nothing.

A bit fat fucking nothing.

So if Lance wasn’t up there…

Then that meant he’d…

But he didn’t have his jetpack. He didn’t even have armor and the oxygen capsules stored inside the helmet — assuming they would still release because nothing else seemed to be working, why would they? — would last at most twenty minutes without the rest of the armor. 

Lance would…

“You,” the Galran commander turned his attention to Hunk, lined up between Pidge and Shiro, and Pidge could feel him flinch. “Where is he?”

Hunk gave a weak shake of his head.

“No?” the word was a dangerous hiss. “You think to lie as well?” 

Pidge felt the heat from a trained blaster warm her leg, same spot they’d shot Allura. She bit her lip between her teeth; she would not give them the satisfaction of her scream.

“N-no,” Hunk stuttered. “I’m, I’m not lying. I don’t kn-know.”

The Galra leaned forward, nose just inches from Hunk’s visor.

He let out a low chuckle. “I do believe one of you finally speaks the truth. However… it is not the answer I desire. And liars must still be punished.”

Pidge heard the gunshot before she felt it.

Hot blood filled her mouth as she bit through her lip and it almost, almost, drowned out the searing burn that erupted on her thigh.

But no.

It didn’t.

Not at all.

She could hear others yelling, a _crack_ sounded above it all followed by a _thump_ shook the ground — Shiro, she faintly identified, horror curdling her stomach as he collapsed — and made the pain flare even hotter and _holy fuck it hurt_ and her eyes were blurring with tears but she forced herself to keep them open, to _see,_ to _know,_ and through it all she did not scream.

She wouldn’t.

She refused. 

Someone was grabbing at her head, yanking off her helmet and then a hand was twisting in her hair and pulling her head back. 

Golden eyes stared down, a cruel fanged smile pulling up purple lips.

“Well, well, aren’t you a tough little lioness?”

Pidge spat a mouthful of blood right between his eyes.

Bullseye.

The resulting slap left her ears ringing but did nothing to pull away from her tight, bloody smile.

“—mander Zhao,” she heard the commander addressed. “What course of action would you like to take?”

The hand released from her head, claws scratching at her scalp, and Pidge slumped back onto her feet.

“Let us err on the side of caution,” the commander said, walking away from Pidge and her eyes followed him, past Hunk who was trembling but had still inched himself closer to her side and his eyes were hard, unforgiving, beyond his fear, past Shiro’s collapsed form — his helmet removed and even from here she could make out the red stain on the back of his head and the matching color on his helmet and _fuck them how dare they_ — and then on Allura, still kneeling and angled towards Shiro, raised up on her knees and hovering slightly over him even though it had to be causing her pain as blood was still running down her leg and her lips were a thin line, and while she ultimately would not be able to do anything the action spoke louder than any words.

It comforted Pidge. 

They were hurt and captured but they had each other.

And she refused to believe Lance was… That he’d…

No. Lance was alive. He was going to save them.

She believed that with all her heart. 

“Load them up on the battle cruiser,” Zhao ordered. “Send the transport in the opposite direction and scatter the remaining fleet. But first… remove their armor.”

“Sir,” one of the Galra saluted, “their armor was rendered useless due to the—”

“I am taking no chances,” Zhao interrupted. “Leave it behind.”

Pidge filed it away, even as she silently cursed. What had happened to their armor? It had to be related to the weapon they’d been sent to retrieve.

Which…

Which hadn’t activated until Hunk had downloaded the code.

The code from the _Coalition._

Her eyes widened at the implication.

They had a traitor in their midst. 

The question was…

Did they work for Lotor or Zarkon? 

And how far up the chain did they go?

She shuddered in a way that had nothing to do with pain.

If — when, definitely when because Lance was fine, he had to be okay— Lance reached out for assistance to the Coalition… what would happen? Would… would they lure Lance somewhere and take him out?

What _did_ the Galra want with them? Information? Cripple Voltron? The Coalition? Make a demonstration? Just… just hurt them?

Pidge really didn’t want to know.

She needed to know.

Because if she could figure out what they wanted then maybe she could—

“Sedate them too,” Zhao interrupted her train of thought with a screeching halt. “We don’t need any…” his eyes cut down to Shiro, “distractions.”

Several Galrans swarmed forward and Pidge tried to stand up, tried to jerk her head away even though she knew it would do no good, but hands were on her shoulders, in her hair, and something cold and sharp was pressing into her neck.

The last thing she saw was the flash of fangs and yellow eyes before darkness, as heavy as her armor, took over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are enjoying the fic please do take a moment to leave a comment with what you liked about it. What takes you **minutes** to read can take an author **hours** , if not **days, weeks** or even **months** to create. Please show your authors appreciation for all their hard work, free of any cost to you. It only takes a minute; share a favorite scene, a line of dialogue, a reaction, a prediction… the possibilities on things to comment on are endless. Thank you to those who do so, it means a lot ♥ 
> 
> Fic will be on a two-week update schedule on Sundays, but if any particular chapter has really good comment engagement I'll update in one week instead :)
> 
> 💥 **(Like my works? Want to read even MORE? Visit my[Tumblr, icypantherwrites](https://icypantherwrites.tumblr.com)!)💥**  
> 


	4. Four

Even knowing that eventually he would hit zero-gravity and his plummet would become a float did not make freefalling through the air any less terrifying.

Lance may have screamed.

A lot.

But if someone screamed in space and no one else was around to hear it was he actually screaming?

Yeah.

Yeah, he was.

At least, Lance comforted himself, there was a lack of debris so he didn’t have to worry about crashing into any of that.

It did mean though that he didn’t have any cover.

And that meant as terrifying as this already was he was making it more so by trying to fall as close to the base as he could because if the Galra saw him (or heard him, he really should stop screaming) then they would just come pick him up in a cruiser (or kill him with one, it really was fifty fifty) and all of this was for nothing.

It couldn’t have been more than twenty seconds before Lance felt his body _push_ against the edge of the gravity field and then he was _popping_ past it into open space.

Open space where there were bits of debris gathered on the outside edges of the satellite’s barrier edge and where Lance _needed_ to get to because if he came to a stop in the middle of dead space…

He wasn’t moving.

Again.

Ever.

It was one of the lessons he recalled with crystal clarity from the Garrison as cadets were put into the anti-gravity chamber, told to stand directly in the middle as the anti-gravity activated and then told to make it back out.

None had.

Hunk, he remembered, had had a panic attack and puked and the instructors still hadn’t turned it off. 

It was important, they’d said, that they all realized that if you wound up stranded in space without a way to move your center of gravity… you would stay there. 

And you would die. 

They’d put them back in, allowing them to use the walls that time, and they’d all — except for Hunk, who’d refused to go back in and received a fail and one of the biggest reasons he’d wound up on Lance’s cargo pilot team — passed. 

So Lance desperately needed to get to those rocks so he would have _something_ to use.

Otherwise…

Lance angled his body, arms straight in front of him and hands layered atop one another and legs pressed together down to the ankle and toes pointed. 

One chance.

The twenty seconds of falling had seemed to take forever.

These few passed by in a blink.

Almost there…

Just a few more feet and...

Lance had never been so grateful to crash into something, the impact sending pain running up his arms but he wrapped them around the space rock he’d hit like his life depended on it (which it did, so…) and relished every bump as he bounced further and further in. 

Camouflage _and_ a chance for survival?

Yes please.

He let himself float there for a minute, willing his heart out of his throat and his stomach to settle. He cast his gaze upwards, the Galra base looming large.

But there were no ships angling towards him, no movement whatsoever.

Lance took it as a good sign. 

An even better one? 

The debris field he was now a part of was the same one they’d hidden the castle. He just had to propel himself there.

Before…

His breath fogged up his visor and he swallowed thickly.

Before he ran out of air. He had no idea how much the helmets stored but… but it couldn’t be that much.

It would have to be enough though because his team was counting on him and he’d promised to come back.

It was just rocks.

Just about two miles.

He could do this. 

Just one foot in front of the other— okay, well, more of one foot kick back, push off rock, propel forward and repeat — until he reached the castle.

Piece of cake.

Lance took a deep breath. 

And pushed off.

xxx

His head felt fuzzy.

He was so tired.

Where…

Where was he going again?

Lance blinked his eyes open.

Rocks rocks rocks and space stared back.

They didn’t provide an answer.

He stared at them. 

They looked funny.

Sort of like potatoes.

Were space rocks edible?

Had anyone ever tried to cook them?

Hunk probably could. Hunk could make anything taste good.

But maybe they tasted good raw?

Or!

Lance’s eyes lit up.

Maybe they were like potato chips. He loved potato chips.

He missed potato chips. 

He could eat one right now though. 

He reached out, clasping his hand around one small rock.

He brought it to his face—

_Clunk!_

Lance blinked.

He tried again.

_Clunk!_

Oh.

There was something over his mouth.

That was weird.

He just had to move it.

“—!!!!” burst in his ears and Lance yelped, dropping the potato chip and clapping both hands to the sides of his head.

A double _clunk!_ Sounded. And then...

“— _ber Three! Do you copy?_ ”

Lance blinked.

There was a voice talking to him.

Inside his head.

Was it… his conscience? He’d never actually heard it speak before.

It had a strange accent.

“...hello?” he sounded out.

“ _Number Three_ ,” the voice sounded again. “ _Oh thank Alaraan_.”

Lance giggled at the funny sounding word. Was that his conscience’s name?

“Hello Alaraaaaannnn,” he drawled.

“ _Ala—_ ?” the voice broke off. “ _Lance_ ,” it was firmer and Lance gaped. It knew his name! “ _Do not touch your helmet. I will be there in one dobash._ Do not move. _”_

Lance lifted his hands, still resting on the sides of his helmet, straight in front of him.

No touching.

Alaraan said so. 

Was… was Alaraan like Simon?

Lance waited for another command.

Silence.

At least that weird buzzing was gone.

He hadn’t liked it. It was like bees.

But what if…

What if the bees were inside his helmet? 

Oh no.

He needed to get it off. 

His hands fumbled on the sides of his head, trying to pull it off.

“ _Lance!”_ the shout echoed both outside and in Lance whirled in a circle.

His mouth dropped.

Someone was there.

His conscience was _real._

He was flying at him super fast, bright blue fire trailing behind him.

It was so pretty.

Lance wondered if it would cook the potatoes. 

He clumsily tried to grab another one floating by.

His conscience grabbed his outstretched hand instead and the next thing Lance knew he was being pulled into arms.

“Oh, Lance,” his conscience murmured, the voice inside and out again. “I’ve got you, my boy. Hold on.”

Lance wanted to tell his conscience he couldn’t, his one arm was pinned between them and his other hand was being held, but it didn’t seem to matter as his eyes were drooping and he was so tired.

But he trusted his conscience. That’s what it was there for.

Everything was going to be all right now.

xxx

Coran rubbed circles on the slender hand in his grasp, the action hopefully more soothing to the recipient than it was to him as Coran’s nerves were too strained to be anything else.

Number Three remained firmly unconscious but his breaths were strong, aided by the oxygen mask affixed over his lower face, and the scanner Coran had set to permanently run indicated normal brain activity.

Coran prayed that meant he’d gotten to the boy in time. 

Hypoxia had clearly kicked in by the time he’d arrived and the oxygen cells in the helmet were completely depleted and as far as Coran knew humans needed it just as much as Alteans to survive. A dobash longer out there and…

Coran shivered.

Number Three — Lance, he amended, for the circumstances were too grave for monikers — had been beyond lucky Coran had found him. He had gotten worried when the Paladins did not return by their deadline but had calmed himself in that things rarely went according to plan but they were all very capable, young people and would be back soon.

But five dobashes turned into ten and there was no sign of movement from the base and no communication, only a burst of static when he tried.

Coran had paced, debating whether he should risk moving the castle and losing its cloaking to check on the situation, but ultimately decided against it. Instead he’d taken out one of the small shuttles; not cloaked but dark in color (after the Blade of Marmora had informed him that the white shuttles they had stood out like sore dorblangs and while Voltron didn’t engage in as many stealth missions as they it would not hurt to have one shuttle capable of moving more covertly) to scout.

While doing so he’d witnessed not the Green Lion eject itself from the Galra base but multiple Galra cruisers. And for a base that intel had assured them was staffed primarily by sentry bots?

That was far too many cruisers.

Coran had felt a prickle on the back of his neck that something hadn’t just gone wrong but _very_ wrong. 

Not only that but the cruisers had not taken off into space, instead circling around and around the base as though…

As though looking for something. 

Coran had maneuvered his shuttle into the dark covering of the debris belt that even the smaller Galra cruisers had been too big to enter and held his breath. They’d passed by several times but none came close.

There seemed to be a signal to retreat as they had all done so, moving to flank a large transport ship that had just emerged. Within the minute they were all gone from sight.

Coran had remained hidden for a few more minutes before he’d turned the shuttle around to return to the castle to contact the Coalition to request backup to storm the base (although he had a sinking feeling his princess and the other Paladins were no longer aboard) and to load up the tracking software on the armor when there had been a burst of static and he realized the shuttle — hooked up to the castle and Lions’ communications — had picked up a signal.

And then…

Humming along with nonsensical sounds and mutterings about potatoes and after a few ticks of confusion he’d placed the voice as being that of Lance. He’d been so relieved though to find one of them that he hadn’t realized right away when Lance had responded that something was off.

He’d realized it quickly enough though and used the shuttle to lock onto the transpondence — and it was very strange that it had not before as Lance was barely forty pylans to the left — and, his stomach had clenched, no doubt who the Galra had been looking for — and should have been picked up long before that but it was a question he put to the back of his mind as now was not the time — and then vacated as it was coming from deep within the debris field and the shuttle could not reach.

He was still shaking at how near the miss had been; the boy right there and he’d have bypassed him completely if his communications had not come back online. 

Coran had only paused to scout the rest of the immediate area in case the other Paladins were somehow nearby, but finding no one he’d pulled Lance into the shuttle and made a mad dash for the castle and the infirmary to provide oxygen as well as blankets as space was _cold_ and while the underarmor was insulating it could not fully protect the heart and the boy’s pulse had been barely fluttering when Coran found him.

But it was beating strong, if slow, now and his temperatures were in normal range and Coran prayed he woke up soon to both reassure him that the lack of oxygen had not meddled with the bright, charming young man Coran had come to love and to hopefully provide answers as to what had happened.

It was those unknowns that had stayed Coran’s hand from contacting the Coalition as his moustache was twitching and Coran had long ago come to trust both it and his instinct and something here was most definitely not right. 

But the longer he waited...

“Come on, lad,” Coran murmured, squeezing the dark hand. “Wake up.”

He swallowed thickly.

“Please wake up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was more than a little disappointed by the engagement last chapter. I know I've talked about this in other fics before, but it takes a lot of mental energy for me to post and it's very draining, especially when there's a response like that. As such, this story is likely going to be going on hiatus for a couple months. I apologize to those who have been enjoying it and especially to those who have taken the time to leave a comment. I know. I love this fic too. But right now it just makes me feel awful and sad. And _please_ don't tell me how you think I should feel; you are not me. If you'd like to help, please be a considerate reader. Let an author know you're here. Let them know how much you love the story. What you love about it (hypoxia was fun to write ;)). Think of how much time and effort and heart they've put into this story. Be kind. Be patient. Be appreciative. Thank you. Until next time.


	5. Five

Lance awoke with a very dry throat and a strange craving for potato chips. But he was too comfortable to move to alleviate the first and so he kept his eyes closed, turning to bury his nose back into his quilts.

Starch sheets brushed his face instead.

That wasn’t right.

They didn’t smell right either, as Coran had a detergent that smelled almost like rain he used for Lance and this wasn’t it. He didn’t think it was the lounge or Hunk’s room either because—

Hunk!

Lance sat up with a gasp as everything rattled back into his brain.

The others! The Galra! He’d escaped to the debris field and… and…

And he’d made it back to the castle?

He could be no place else, the infirmary familiar, but—

Wait.

Infirmary?

What had—?

“Lance!” 

Lance jerked his head up, relief as well as surprise at the lack of ‘number three’ flooding him as Coran appeared in the doorway, a tray with what looked like a bowl of food goo and cup of tea on it. 

“Coran,” the name came out a croak he could only partially blame on a sore throat.

“Ah ah, stay right there,” Coran said as Lance went to swing his legs over the cot. “No moving, lad.”

Lance remained sitting but that didn’t stop him from talking, words pouring from his throat in a barely coherent babble.

“Coran, the others, the Galra, it, it was a trap and they—”

“Lance,” Coran interrupted him, setting the tray on a bedside table, voice sharp but at the same time gentle. “I know time is of the essence,” he said. “But take a breath for me, all right? I want to make sure _you_ are all right first.”

“Me?” Lance asked, even though the fact he was in the infirmary and couldn’t remember how he’d gotten there was a pretty big clue. 

“Breathe in please,” Coran said in place of an answer and instructed Lance to hold it for five counts before slowly releasing, as he pressed some sort of device — an alien stethoscope? — against his chest. And again.

And again.

“Everything looks to be in order,” Coran said, pulling away the stethoscope and giving Lance a gentle smile. 

Lance couldn’t quite match it.

His head was abuzz with questions, his heart twisting with growing horror and fear.

Coran seemed to understand and inclined his head.

“I found you in the debris field.” He paused, his face tightening. 

Lance’s heart thumped.

“Hypoxia had set in.”

Lance’s heart stuttered.

What?

He’d… he’d almost…?”

“I had feared…” Jewel eyes met ocean and a hand tenderly reached up to brush his cheek. “I am truly glad you are all right.”

“Y-yeah,” Lance swallowed. “Coran, thank you. _Gracias._ I, I…”

“You do not need to thank me for that, dear boy. I am just glad I found you when I did. Had your communications not come back—”

“Wait,” Lance cut him off, flushed at how _rude_ that was, but Coran only tilted his head, “my comms worked?”

Because they hadn’t been. Nothing had worked.

But if his comms had come back…

Had the rest of his armor?

His _bayard?_

Had the others’?

“Yes,” Coran confirmed. His voice dipped, a more urgent tone. “Lance, please, what happened on the mission?”

Lance explained as quick as he could around Coran insisting he drink the tea and Lance hadn’t been able to say no as it helped chase away the lingering cold in his chest; how the mission had seemed far too easy considering how dangerous they had been told it was. How Hunk had inputted the code to the superweapon and it… Lance didn’t know if it had gone off but _something_ had happened that knocked him out and then made every aspect of their Paladin armor — bayards and comms included — unuseable. He talked about being up top and hearing the Galrans — the commander was named Zhao but he didn’t know anything else — threaten his team into submission and then they’d… he’d paused then, swallowing, and barely whispered that they’d hurt Allura.

He remembered all too well how _angry_ Coran had been when Allura had gotten captured on that infiltration mission with Shiro and it was the first time he’d seen Coran like that. But Coran only squeezed his hand and quietly told Lance it was not his fault — even if Lance knew it was because Allura had lied to protect _him_ and he’d gotten her hurt. 

The Galra had demanded to know where he, the fifth member, was and then… it was Coran’s turn to look horrified as Lance whispered out that they’d watched The Voltron Show and pinpointed him to the catwalk. Not his fault, Lance had squeezed his hand back and Coran hadn’t pressed it but Lance knew the look of guilt and failure all too well. 

He’d managed to get free of his armor and escaped through the roof before the Galra reached him and he’d leapt off the base because staying would guarantee his capture. He’d made for the debris field and was aiming for where he vaguely knew the castle was hidden but…

But apparently he’d run out of oxygen and if Coran hadn’t found him…

Coran squeezed his hand again. “Let us not think on such an outcome. You are here and you are safe.”

“But the others aren’t.”

The words were as bitter as they sounded and Lance flushed as soon as they were out but they were true.

He was safe.

And the others weren’t.

And because he’d left…

Because he hadn’t been able to do anything…

They were going to be punished because of him. They would be _hurt._

He knew that was true too. 

“No,” Coran agreed softly, drawing him from his spiraling thoughts, “but we will save them and they will be back with us soon. And to do that we must start preparations.” He gave Lance’s hand a gentle tug. “Come. To the bridge.”

Lance kidnapped one of the blankets from the infirmary, wrapping it around his shoulders as he still felt so _cold_ , and kept up with Coran’s brisk pace.

“Um, Coran? What exactly are we doing on the bridge?”

Because while Lance had not come right out and said it, it was more than clear to him and had to be to Coran that whatever the weapon was, whatever code they had been given to disable it, had not only been a trap but it had been one orchestrated by someone from within.

“I am going to run the tracking software on the armor,” Coran replied, “and depending upon the results… we may be reaching out for some assistance.”

Lance’s step faltered but as Coran turned, even as his face was drawn tight there was a confident reassurance in his next works.

“We may have been betrayed, but there are some of both Blade and Rebel whose loyalties and determination to help us I would never question. I think,” his lips quirked up the slightest bit before he turned forward again, “you may have an inkling.”

Lance blinked.

And then his own lips curved into a smile.

Of course.

Keith for the Blades.

And Matt Holt, Pidge’s brother for the Rebels. 

No matter what he knew they would help.

His smile fell then.

They’d help rescue the team Lance had left behind.

They’d find out how… how _pathetic_ he had been back there. Keith would never have left, Lance knew that, not without Shiro.

And Matt…

 _Dios_ , when he found out Lance left his sister behind, his sister that was with a Galran who had threatened violence multiple times over for lying and she had lied for him and what if she’d been hurt too like Allura, what would Matt do? 

Lance swallowed.

Whatever…

Whatever they had to say to him, however they decided to treat him, he deserved it. 

And he would do anything, _anything,_ to set this right.

By the time they reached the bridge he’d pulled himself together to at least not cause any further worry on Coran’s part because he should not have to be dealing with Lance falling apart on him on top of everything else, and Coran hurried to the main console to pull up diagrams Lance would have had no idea on how to even start.

He stood to the side, pulling tighter on the blanket, and watched as colored bars and dots materialized in holographic projection before them as Coran’s hands flew across the keyboard and console. 

He could figure though that the colors of green, yellow, pink, black and blue denoted their armor colors though, although they were all muted casts of what he was used to seeing save for two brighter bars on his blue and a single bar of pink for Allura.

More dots overtook the bars, blinking points with what had to be coordinates.

“The majority of the Paladin armor is still offline,” Coran said, voice soft but somehow so loud in the heavy atmosphere of the bridge. “The only pieces responding are your helmet, Lance, and chestplate and Allura’s right arm guard, indicating that distance and time are both a component in—” he broke off as a brighter black bar followed by the same matching coordinate number pinged onto the holograph. “Time for certain,” he said, “as Number One’s chestplate just also came back on. Whatever this weapon was, it did not destroy the crystals that power the armor but suppressed them.”

“And… and the numbers?”

“Coordinates,” Coran replied, confirming Lance’s earlier hunch. “And as you can see they are all, save for your helmet, at the same location. But… that location is the base previously infiltrated.”

Which was a dead end.

The Galrans would not have kept the others there, not after all the work they’d done in luring them to it and then having the knowledge to specifically target their armor and its functions. 

“We should not leave any marliansor unrotated,” Coran said, which Lance could only figure was the Altean version of a ‘stone unturned’, “but I fear that all of the armor has been left behind in that base but that the others… they do not remain there any longer.”

Which meant…

They had no way of tracking them.

They could be…

Be _anywhere._

They could be being hurt and tortured and… and...

Lance’s legs trembled.

What had he done?

He, he should have stayed.

He should have tried to hide, to get information.

To do _anything_ that would have actually helped them.

Instead he’d…

He’d…

Lance was barely aware he was falling until Coran’s hands were caught beneath his arms and a quiet, “easy, my boy,” was echoing in his ear and he was being gently lowered to the ground.

“‘m sorry,” he gasped it out, the words stabbing like shattered glass. “ _Lo siento. L-lo siento._ I… I…”

“Lance, shh, it’s all right.”

Lance violently shook; his body, his head.

No.

No it wasn’t.

He’d failed them.

He’d done this to them.

An arm was wrapping around his back now and another raising up, pressing into his hair, and his head was guided forward to rest against Coran’s chest.

Lance tried to swallow down the sob trying to come up his throat.

He didn’t deserve this.

Not after what he’d done.

“Shh,” Coran murmured, gently rubbing his back. “There’s no need for apologies, Lance. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

Lance shook his head again.

“You have not,” Coran’s voice was harder that time. “The only wrong thing is to fall now into despair. Because we will find them, Lance. We will.”

“ _How?”_ Lance choked the word out. 

“We will find a way,” Coran said.

He sounded so sure. 

So confident.

Lance would give anything for that belief. 

He talked a big game but at the end of the day… that’s all he was. Just talk.

He should never have remained a Paladin. If, if Keith had been here today instead…

He’d been so selfish. 

He was being selfish now. He was wasting time and Coran’s attention and _Dios,_ why had he ever thought he could be a hero?

“Lance, lad,” Coran’s voice was so soft. “Look at me.”

Lance shook his head.

He couldn’t.

“Lance, look at me,” Coran commanded, still gentle. 

Lance tentatively lifted his head, eyes darting up to Coran’s jewel tones, so soft and understanding. 

Coran’s hand slid from his hair to his cheek, thumb rubbing at one of the tears that had treacherously fallen. 

“We will find a way,” Coran repeated, holding his gaze. “We will, my boy. I know it. Because our team… our _family,”_ his voice hitched on the word, “is counting on us. And we will not let them down. We never have and we never will.”

“But… but I…”

How could Coran say that?

How could he not blame Lance? 

“You have not let them down, Lance,” Coran said. “You have given them a _chance._ Had you not escaped… they would be in even more danger right now. I would have reached out to the Coalition and we do not know how far up this goes, who is involved, except that they _are_ involved in this mission and therefore high enough. They would have steered us in the wrong direction, perhaps planted false evidence to distract us, and… and there is no telling what could happen in that interim. Time is of the essence and _you_ gave them as much as there could be. Your escape gives them _hope,_ Lance, _you_ give them hope, and it is my dearest hope you will one day see just how much you mean to us all.”

Lance felt his cheeks darken at the words and at Coran’s complete and utter _faith_ in him and the refusal to see Lance’s escape as anything but a positive.

As hope.

As a _chance._

And it was one Lance was squandering because as Coran said time was of the essence and they didn’t have any to waste.

He sniffled but gave a tiny, small nod.

“What… what do you need me to do?”

“That’s the spirit,” Coran gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Now, here’s what I am thinking…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wasn't planning to post again for a while, but I needed content for my early release readers so... enjoy :) If you have a moment after reading it would mean a lot to hear from you ♥
> 
> And psst! If you like my works, like Langst, and would like to help help dogs and cats with the amazing charity **The Anti Cruelty Society,** preorders for my zine, "A Collection of Langst Volume Three" are open with proceeds benefiting said amazing charity. You can **[find details on my Tumblr here.](https://icymakesazine.tumblr.com/post/629514167732387840/preorders-are-open-click-here-to-visit-the)**


	6. Six

Coran paced back and forth across the bridge, eyes flicking between the many screens projected from the console.

Still no movement on the exterior feed by the guest hangar where he was expecting both Number Four and Number Five’s brother to land.

No movement on the camera directed at the Galra base.

And no movement from the Red Lion’s hangar to indicate that Lance had returned.

The boy had gone out in the Red Lion with Number Five’s ingenious cloaking technology; she had been in the process of outfitting all of the Lions and the Red Lion, closest in size to the Green, had been the first in line. It was not yet complete — comms did not work without disabling the cloaking and that terrified Coran given all that had happened but he trusted Lance and he needed Lance to see that he did so — but it was good enough for a flyby to gather information and that was what they needed.

They did not have time to waste scouting out the base if it was indeed a deadend as Coran feared, but they could not abandon it either as it was their only clue and could potentially lead to more. So Lance had taken the Red Lion along with a thermal imaging scanner and was flying as quick as he could around the base to obtain readings to see what kind of forces they might be dealing with on the inside and how to best breach. 

It was good, Coran thought, for Lance to be doing something useful right now. Because earlier…

His step faltered.

Earlier had been… 

Coran had known that Lance’s smiling, upbeat, at times even slightly abrasive personality depending on how the recipient viewed it did conceal something that was sometimes sadder, sometimes more raw and more scared than he wanted to let others see. 

He had never known how deep though those feelings ran.

And the breakdown earlier… some could be blamed on exhaustion, yes, and the lingering effects from the coldness of space, but those things did not negate the fact those feelings, that guilt and self-blame, had been there long before. 

It worried Coran.

It worried him a lot.

It worried and scared him that he had not seen it, that he wondered if anyone on the team had either. Being a Paladin of Voltron was not an easy task, he knew. Those chosen had to be strong of not just body but of mind and spirit and in this time of war, of hardship and darkness and so much pain, it could be hard to remain such. 

And Lance…

He must have been hiding such pain for a while now. 

It made Coran’s heart ache.

He resolved to do better by not just Lance but all of the Paladins. He had spoken truly when he told Lance that they were family. They were. He had thought he’d lost everything save Allura when Altea fell, but since waking these humans had slowly filled that hole left behind. Lance though…

He had always held a different place in Coran’s heart. He imagined that had his son… His step faltered again and Coran blinked quickly at the sudden threat of tears at the memory. He swallowed.

He imagined that had his son survived he would have been a lot like Lance. 

It was why it hurt all the more to see the boy in such pain. 

All he could do now was move forward and make sure that Lance knew how valued, how loved, how special, he truly was and make sure the others knew the same. There were many hurts this war had caused but Coran would not allow this to be one of them any longer.

It was why he hoped Number Four — Keith, he amended, for today was not a day of nicknames — and Matt arrived soon so he could speak with them and explain the situation. He had not been able to say much on the transmissions — Matt in a crowded control room and while Keith had been alone Coran did not dare take any undue risks — except that respectively Number Five and Number One had requested them immediately and to come with all possible haste and he was setting up a wormhole for each of them… but not to tell anyone because it was a secret.

Keith’s brow had furrowed — confusion and frustration warring — as he had picked up that something was not quite right but unable to figure it out while Matt’s eyes had narrowed but he had not asked questions then and merely asked for coordinates and, voice deceivingly light, asked that milkshakes be present for his arrival.

Coran had been unable, even despite the circumstances, to hide a shudder at that.

Alaraan, no.

Never again.

And speak of the Waloloo, here came one of them. Keith, Coran identified, as the sleek Blade ship appeared on the radar. 

“ _Keith Kogane to Castle of the Lions,”_ Keith’s voice came in over the console.

“Password?” Coran asked pleasantly, unable to stop his moustache from curling up with amusement, as despite the circumstances he needed to set the tone because Keith’s defenses were as high as Mount Bloairan on a good day and this was not going to be a good day. Not only that, but Coran trusted only the Castle of Lions to be entirely secure and until they were all aboard he could not risk any compromising detail.

“ _Password_ ?” Keith echoed. “ _Coran, you didn’t give me a password.”_

“Oh dear,” Coran smiled. “That is a problem. All right then… hmm… what is my favorite food?”

“ _Um… food goo?”_ came the very hesitant, very confused response.

“Alaraan no,” Coran shook his head. “But points for trying. All right then, what is your strange hairstyle called?”

“ _It is not a mullet!”_

Coran chuckled to himself. “Hangar is opening, please report to the bridge.”

He shut off the transmission before the boy could try and ask any particulars as to why he was there.

It was not a moment too soon as another ship was appearing — a little more battered looking but proudly bearing the Rebel’s symbol — and Matt’s voice held none of Keith’s uncertainty.

_“What happened to my sister?”_

“I will explain everything once you are aboard the castle,” Coran responded, his own tone calm. “But first, answer me this question: what poor animal do your coveted milkshakes come from?”

 _“Come from?”_ and the note of confusion was in Coran’s book a marked improvement over the earlier intensity. “ _Milkshakes don’t really come from an animal. I mean, milk comes from cows but—”_

“Cow was the correct response,” Coran cut him off. “Hangar is opening and please proceed to the bridge. You may run into Keith.”

“ _Keith?”_ Matt echoed. “ _Why is Keith—?”_

“Bridge, please,” Coran interrupted. 

He was taking no chances of hacked communications or hidden cameras. 

He took up his pacing once more, both other camera feeds still displaying no movement in which he would take for now as good news, but was standing at attention in front of the main console as the bridge door opened and the two Terrans walked in, expressions set and Coran knew there was nothing to lighten this horrible situation now.

“What’s going on?” Keith spoke first, his eyes darting around the empty bridge. “Where’s Shiro?”

“Where’s Katie?” Matt demanded. 

Coran held up his hand. “I will explain and I ask,” he met both sets of eyes, “that there are no interruptions until I have finished. Understood?”

Matt inclined his head and Keith crossed his arms over his chest but didn’t say anything.

Coran explained as quickly as he could all that had happened — the trap, the capture, Lance’s escape and near death in the debris belt as he sought to get back to the castle for help (and Alaraan it still made him shudder in remembrance as to how close Lance had come to being lost forever to space) — in just about two varga gone by now from when he saw the ships depart from the base. 

Coran stressed how vital it was that they kept this quiet because they did not know who the traitor was or their position and resources within the Coalition or what actions they might take if they felt they were in danger of being discovered and what that could mean for the Paladins. 

It worked, and Coran’s smile turned a touch bitter, that many often overlooked Coran in the grand scheme of things and would not expect him to go off on his own or to be involved in a rescue. He would, and should, call the Coalition but given the secretive nature of the mission no one was expecting Voltron to call in for almost another quintant and anyone that raised made a comment over the lack of contact (i.e. Coran calling in in a panic that something had gone wrong) would only cast suspicion on themselves since the Coalition was operating on no news is good news. 

It was why they had to move quickly.

The main reason was of course that the longer the Paladins were in Galra hands the greater chances for harm, but if also gave them the best opportunity to take down the traitor before they could think to flee or harm another. And looking out for the greater good when it aligned so much with what was best for their own team as well… it made perfect sense.

“I don’t like it,” Matt was the first to speak, “but I get it. At least until we know more so then we can beat whoever this asshole is at their own game.”

“And we are working on that now,” Coran assured. “Lance should be back shortly and then—”

Coran cut off as the bridge door _swooshed_ open again and Lance appeared clothed in his Paladin underarmour but a plain white and black colored Altean pilot uniform that was just simple armor with no crystals or technology to it.

Lance remained standing in the doorway and even from here Coran could see the slender throat swallow and the way his hands tightened ever so on the helmet he was holding at his side. 

Coran held his breath too.

He had made his point clear, he thought, of how disadvantaged Lance had been with his armor and bayard offline and how much danger he had put himself in to escape to get help, but people could interpret a situation differently, especially one as volatile and personal as this.

“Um,” Lance shifted on his feet as no one moved. “Hey—”

“Coran told us what happened,” Keith interrupted and although the tone was sharp Coran found himself relaxing.

He had seen many sides of the half-human, had seen him grow up in the face of this war. And this? This was a boy become a young man.

Keith’s voice softened. “Are you okay?”

And Coran found himself smiling softly Lance’s eyes widened and unfiltered surprise crossed his face and even the tight rigid line he’d held himself in disappeared in a breath as he came face to face with the realization that _no one_ blamed him for what had happened.

And Coran hoped that perhaps now it would be enough for Lance to forgive himself.

“Um, yeah, I’m fine. I’m,” Lance swallowed and Coran felt his heart twist as no, not quite yet, “I’m sorry I couldn’t—”

“Didn’t you hear Keith?” Matt interjected that time. “Coran told us what happened.”

“But—”

“No weapon,” Matt ticked on his finger. “No comms. Not even a working ship. So…”

He trailed off, eyebrow pointed, but Lance didn’t answer quite yet and Coran realized he was waiting for Keith’s response too.

His judgement.

Coran held his breath as Matt gave Keith a very gentle nudge.

“Um, what Matt said,” Keith said, shooting a glance between Matt and then Lance. “What do you think you could have done?”

Lance flinched.

Keith’s eyes widened with horror.

“Not, not like that,” he spoke quickly. “I mean, you don’t have another weapon,” — Lance’s shoulders began to curl in— “and can’t hack—” Lance’s eyes dropped — “and you’re not Galran so you couldn’t override any sys—”

Matt clapped a hand over Keith’s face as the boy dug himself deeper and deeper and Coran felt his heart ache at the unintended hurt filling the room but refrained from stepping in as this was something these humans needed to fix on their own. He had spoken his piece, Lance knew Coran’s thoughts on the matter; now he needed to clear the air with the others.

“What Keith means,” Matt said into the heavy silence, “is that you were severely disadvantaged and it’s admirable that not only were you able to free yourself from your armor but escape a Galran base _and_ survive that long in space. I know it’s not what you wanted to do, I know how much it must have felt like running away,” — Lance twitched — “but you did the right thing. You did.”

“He’s right,” Keith said quietly but no less fiercely. “And… and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“...I know,” Lance said after a moment, voice small.

He still didn’t meet their eyes.

“Hey!” Keith’s voice was hotter. 

Lance jerked his head up, flashing eyes not disguising the fact they were overbright with unshed tears. “I said I know!”

“Do you?” Keith countered, taking a step forward, hands curled in fists at his sides. 

“Yes!”

“Then say it. Say that you didn’t fuck up the mission. Say you don’t think _I_ think you fucked it up.”

And just like that all of the fire in Lance’s expression was washed out and his head dropped, unable to hold the hot purple gaze.

Keith _growled._

And then he was crossing the space to Lance and his hands were landing with bruising intensity on slender shoulders. 

“You didn’t,” Keith gave Lance a shake, who still didn’t look up. “You didn’t, Lance. _I_ fucked up just now. Shiro…” he swallowed, voice hitching on the name, “Shiro always said I needed to think before I spoke because words… words can hurt too. I know they can.”

Coran hadn’t thought his heart could break any more today but he was wrong.

There was so much… _pain_ and _knowing_ in the half-human’s voice and Coran wondered not for the last time just where some of these humans had come from, what had happened to them in life. Keith and Number One had always been the most reserved in sharing about their histories and seeing this now… Coran hated to think how cruel life had been to this young man and how much more it could still take.

“And I’m… I’m sorry,” Keith’s voice had softened again. “My words… they came out wrong. I didn’t… I _don’t_ think you messed up. Now. Earlier. I… I know we don’t always see eye to eye but… but I know you would never, _ever,_ hurt anyone and you don’t like to see people hurt. So… so I know today sucked. It sucked a lot. But we’ve got a…” he paused, swallowing, and Coran wondered not for the first time why the boy ever felt he had to leave, “a team to save. So… so let’s save them.”

Lance finally lifted his head.

His lip was trembling and his eyes were still overbright, but there was something lighter, something open, in his expression.

And before Keith could move Lance was squeezing him around the middle and he whispered something too soft for even Coran’s superior Altean hearing to pick up, but based upon the gentle, hesitant smile pulling up Keith’s face and his own arms dropping to gently encircle Lance’s back he had an idea.

“Aw yeah, group hug,” Matt cheered but as he caught Coran’s eye there was a seriousness in those dark honey depths. 

They knew this was not yet close to over. Not until the others had been saved.

“I do love group hugs,” Coran smiled, inclining his head in acknowledgement. 

Keith let out a half-hearted squawk of protest as he was surrounded and Lance let out a teary laugh as Coran’s moustache tickled his cheek, and Coran chuckled as he elongated his arms and stature to successfully wrap all three up.

And for at least this single moment everything was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are enjoying the fic it would mean a lot to hear from you in the comments. Thank you :)
> 
> And psst! If you like my works, like Langst, and would like to help help dogs and cats with the amazing charity **The Anti Cruelty Society,** preorders for my zine, "A Collection of Langst Volume Three" are open with proceeds benefiting said amazing charity. You can **[find details on my Tumblr here.](https://icymakesazine.tumblr.com/post/629514167732387840/preorders-are-open-click-here-to-visit-the)** Preorders close **October 22**.


	7. Seven

Something very lightly jostled Pidge’s foot.

She twitched at it, trying to roll away.

She didn’t go far.

In fact, she didn’t go anywhere at all.

Pidge’s eyes flew open as she realized not only was she not moving she was sitting straight up and her leg was  _ aching  _ and her head was pounding and what the fuck was—?

Oh.

That’s right.

They’d been captured.

Her head swiveled left and right, confirming that just like her the others were shackled to the wall, arms stretched above their heads but all sitting on their rear ends. Her legs, nor Hunk’s, his the one that had tapped her, had not been restrained but Shiro — on Hunk’s other side — and Allura — to her left — had metal bars over their ankles pinning them down and Allura’s were glowing similarly to the dampener cuff clasped about Shiro’s prosthetic, no doubt some failsafe against Altean shapeshifting, of which the princess was giving her best effort, straining in all matter of angles that hurt to look at.

And just to make everything even more fun…

She and Allura were gagged, some purple (of course it was purple) sort of adhesive over her mouth, although both boys were not so, although given the fact Shiro’s head was tilted down and apparently still unconscious didn’t do him a lot of good.

They had bandaged both of their wounds though.

It wasn’t anything special and whoever had done it hadn’t even bothered to cut away the underarmor to reach skin, but there was no denying there was a bandage wrapped around her thigh and the lack of blood showing through was a small relief to this otherwise super shitty situation, although Allura’s had a red spot, no doubt from her twisting and turning.

The bandages didn’t make it hurt any less though and Pidge tried not to shiver at the memory of getting shot.

Her head was starting to clear a bit too, no doubt the remnants of the sedative leaving her system, and letting her take further stock of the situation.

The floor was chilly as most metal was but she could feel the faintest vibrations indicating they were traveling although the where was still up in the air (literally, and Pidge let out a muffled snort at the awful pun that she knew Hunk would have appreciated.).

As though hearing his name, Hunk gave her foot another gentle nudge with his own to draw her attention and she gave it to him.

“You okay?” he asked quietly. 

Pidge raised an eyebrow.

Hunk let out a hoarse laugh. “Okay, dumb question. Well, um, so you just woke up and I woke up about twenty minutes ago and Allura maybe ten after me? Shiro…” his gaze cut to the right and if his hands weren’t forcibly separated Pidge knew he would be wringing them.

“He’s breathing,” Hunk said. “But… but they hit him really hard, Pidge.”

Because he’d fought back when they’d shot her. 

Guilt churned her stomach that her actions had caused Shiro to get hurt, to surrender in the first place, even though she knew she wasn’t at fault.

That would be the asshole Galra and the bigger asshole traitor that when she got her hands on them had better wish for a quick death.

Especially if…

If because of them...

Her stomach tightened as she looked past Shiro where a fifth set of manacles were in the wall, their occupant missing.

Where was Lance?

Had he escaped?

Or had he…

Was he…?

She couldn’t even say it aloud in her own mind. She knew the probabilities of his survival were… not good. She knew realistically he’d have run out of oxygen before he ever reached the castle with only his helmet. 

But…

But while optimism had never been her strong suit it had gotten her this far in the search for her family where reality would have told her to quit long ago.

And Lance was always full of surprises. If… if anyone could find a way in as hopeless a situation as this it would be him, Pidge believed that with all her heart. And that meant Lance was okay. He was alive. And he was going to come back and save all of them.

They just had to hold on until then.

It would help a lot though if she knew  _ what  _ she had to brace herself for. 

Hunk had apparently picked up mind reading as a side hobby as he said, “No one’s come by since I woke up. But there’s cameras,” and Pidge saw them now, three of them planted in the ceiling, “so they know we’re awake. And then…”

It was Pidge’s turn to nudge his foot, straining a bit to do so, in what little comfort she could offer. 

Because when the Galra came…

It didn’t take a genius to figure out who they were going to want to talk to.

She and Allura were gagged, deemed as liars and any words they spoke now to this Commander Zhao would not be trusted, and Shiro was unconscious and even if he were awake Pidge had felt her hair rise at how  _ dangerous  _ Shiro had looked and when he’d  _ growled  _ at the asshole commander she had taken pleasure in seeing his eyes widen with the barest flicker of something that might have been fear, even if they’d narrowed with amusement a second later, they would not trust his words either.

That left Hunk, who as pointed out had not yet lied.

Now the question was…

What did they want to know?

And what would Hunk be able to say?

All they could do now was wait. 

Pidge looked to her left and that time met Allura’s eyes, who was looking slightly wan and Pidge had no doubt the fresh blood staining her bandages and the way the cuffs kept sparking had something to do with it, but her gaze was steady and calm and Pidge took comfort in it. 

Whatever happened next…

At least they were all together. 

Time continued to tick by and Hunk babbled to fill the silence — anything from recipes to movies to if he had a dog what kind he would have and what he would name it — although he never once mentioned Lance even though Pidge knew he had to be just as scared and worried as she was as he too would have run the numbers, or even Voltron or the Coalition or anything telling. 

But as they approached what had to be a half hour Hunk petered out with a soft ‘ _ sorry’  _ and the silence pressed back in.

It broke again with a soft moan from Shiro’s direction and Pidge nearly gave herself whiplash turning towards him, Hunk’s head actually thunking the wall in his haste. 

“Shiro? Shiro, man? You waking up?”

Shigo gave another groan, his head lolling and his left hand fingers giving the barest twitch. 

Pidge held her breath as Shiro slowly, slowly, turned in their direction, his eyes half-lidded.

Even then Pidge could clearly see that his pupils were blown wide in his eyes and there was a dazed look to them.

She swore behind her gag.

Fuck it.

Shiro was concussed. 

Hunk had drawn the same conclusion if the “holy cheeseballs,” was anything to go by.

“Whaaaa,” Shiro slurred, “wha’ happened?”

“Shiro, don’t move, man,” Hunk cautioned. “Your head…”

Shiro though was already lifting it up and Pidge winced as the back of his head hit the wall behind him. 

“Ow,” Shiro said, face scrunching up in a way completely out of character for him. “Tha’ hurt.”

God.

God they did not need this right now. 

They needed Shiro to be able to focus, to—

Focus!

Pidge stretched her foot to hit Hunk’s leg.

Time for him to be a mindreader again. 

“...I do not know what you are trying to say,” he told her as she tried to channel Shiro’s favorite phrase to him. 

Pidge glared.

“Okay, wow, that’s scary.”

Pidge glared harder, darting her gaze between Hunk and Shiro. 

“Uh… you want me to look at Shiro?”

Pidge wiggled her shoulders.

“Is that a maybe?”

“‘m Shiro,” Shiro mumbled, interrupting Pidge’s terrible attempts at communication.

Hunk let out a nervous laugh. “Yeah, man, we—”

“I think,” Shiro continued. “‘s all… fuzzy. Why’se….why’se everything so…”

“You have a concussion,” Hunk said gently.

Shiro stared at Hunk.

Blinked.

His eyes widened. 

“I… I got hit,” he said slowly, but the words were clearer. “By…” He frowned. “By…”

His gaze landed on Pidge.

He blinked again.

“Pidge. Pidge, you…” 

His gaze drifted down to her leg. 

“Galra,” he breathed.

“That’s right,” Hunk said, nodding fervently. “We, we got captured, Shiro. Remember? By the Galra.”

Shiro looked confused again. “Why?”

“We don’t know,” Hunk admitted. “But—”

The  _ swooshing  _ of the cell door directly across from them cut Hunk off and the appearance of the Galran commander kept his silence.

Pidge hoped she was the only one who heard him audibly swallow although based on the commander’s curling lip she doubted it.

“I can answer that question for you, Champion,” he said almost pleasantly.

Shiro gave the barest shake of his head.

“Oh? You don’t want to know?” 

“Not… not Champion,” Shiro got out, brow creased and somehow, in that moment, looking far, far too young.

Pidge felt something twist in her chest as Zhao’s grin widened and he stepped towards Shiro.

“H-hey,” Hunk stuttered, and she knew he felt the same fear she was. “Don’t touch him.”

Zhao ignored Hunk completely, squatting down in front of Shiro. 

“You are Champion,” he said, reaching a hand out and gripping Shiro’s chin in it. 

“No,” Shiro’s voice wavered. “Not… not him.”

The Galran hummed. “I suppose you are correct. For Champion fights in the Arena. And so...” his grip tightened and Shiro moaned and Hunk yelled and still Pidge heard the promised threat, “it looks like you’re off to the Arena.”

Shiro looked absolutely terrified.

Pidge could not blame him in the slightest.

“That is,” Zhao released Shiro’s chin and stood to his full height, “after the Druids have had their fill of you. I’ve already sent word and Emperor Zarkon’s head Druid herself is coming to see you. Don’t worry,” his teeth glinted, “she’ll make you all better.”

Shiro looked like he was about to be sick, face gone completely white with a tinge of green and Pidge almost wished he’d stayed unconscious.

This…

This was torture. 

And it was exactly why they’d waited for him to wake up.

The Galra were  _ cruel.  _

“You won’t be alone though for that part,” Zhao continued. “All of your little friends will be joining you. The Druids are most interested to know all you know.”

Pidge normally found knowledge comforting.

Not this time.

Knowing that Zarkon was behind this, that there were going to be Druids — using magic that science could not even begin to comprehend — rooting around in her head to find God only knew what…

God.

She tried to comfort herself that she didn’t know much they would find worthwhile, but that didn’t extend to Shiro and especially to Allura, who were neck-deep in Coalition matters as well as Voltron.

But…

But if what they wanted was information…

Why take them all? 

Why not just…

Just kill her and Hunk (and Lance) there? They could leverage Shiro and Allura against each other to gain compliance, unless they thought to use her (as they had) because she was smaller and apparently even here that somehow implied she needed to be protected. 

Her breath hitched.

Were…

Were they  _ all  _ going to fight in the Arena?

Were they going to be made to fight each other?

Bile tickled the back of her throat and she swallowed thickly as it had nowhere to go.

God.

God no.

“But alas,” Zhao gave an exaggerated sigh. “After that you’ll be all alone again, Champion.”

Wait.

What?

“You wished to know why you are here?” the commander asked and against the sickness rolling her stomach Pidge felt a flutter of something she couldn’t pin because why would he tell them this? Was it a trap? Another ploy? 

The Arena was a terrifying enough option, what else… what else could there be?

“Champion will go to the Arena, of course,” Zhao said, stepping to stand in front of them all, golden eyes moving down the line. “And the Yellow and Green Paladins… well, we have seen your skills. You will work for us and do as we command. Otherwise you shall have the pleasure of torturing the other to death and then being killed after.”

Hunk made a choking noise and Pidge would have done the same if she could.

They…

What?

No.

No, they couldn’t…

But…

But they could.

And they would.

God, she was going to be sick.

She swallowed thickly again, eyes watering at the effort, because she would not, could not do that.

“As for the princess,” and Pidge was almost grateful to hear Zhao speak again as it wrenched her from that spiral of horror, “our” his voice softened, “ _ star.  _ It has been ten thousand years since Alteans lived and your genetic makeup…” his hand lighted on the glowing cuff pinning Allura to the wall, “it is fascinating. There is so much to learn from you and I know I and my team are going to enjoy taking you apart piece,” his other hand drifted to Allura’s hair, letting loose strands fall through his hands, “by little piece.”

Pidge hadn’t been aware the situation could have become more horrifying but apparently the universe loved to prove her wrong today.

Allura, to her credit and with a strength Pidge severely envied in that moment, only lifted her chin and narrowed jeweled eyes at the commander.

He chuckled. “Well, well, I see all we’ve heard is true. You are quite the lioness. We’ll see how long you keep that pride, princess. Which speaking of…”

He let out another sigh and turned to face the empty set of manacles.

Pidge’s stomach twisted.

What…

What fate had they planned for Lance?

Watching Zhao’s lips curl into a dark smile she really, really didn’t want to know.

She knew without a doubt he was going to tell them.

“It is a shame,” he shook his head. “We were going to test that delightful loverboy moniker of his. You see, the crews, especially those stationed in more remote bases, can get lonely. And your Paladin…” he chuckled. “They’d have  _ loved  _ to play with him.”

Pidge took it back.

She was going to be sick. 

They had wanted to…

They were going to…

God.

Oh God.

Hunk  _ was  _ sick, the sound of bile splattering on the floor.

The Galran seemed to delight in it.

“Oh, yes,” he nearly purred. “They would have had so much fun with their little Paladin whore. A toy for them to break over and over and over again and strip him of all he once was. A fitting end for one whose talents do nothing otherwise for our Empire.

“Alas,” he shrugged, “the Blue Paladin seems to have fallen prey to the darkness of space and that is the way fate decided he go. Regarding your fates, we will be arriving at our destination in just about four varga,” he said, turning for the door which opened with a  _ hiss.  _ “Enjoy it, for it is the last time you will not know true pain.”

Silence echoed as the door closed behind him.

Pidge closed her eyes and tried to convince her stomach not to overturn. 

But…

God…

What they wanted to do to Lance. Saying Lance had… that he’d… 

She refused to believe it. 

Next to her Hunk was taking in noisy inhales and shaking so much the wall was vibrating. 

“Not.”

Shiro’s voice sounded, quiet but firm even in his concussed state.

Pidge cracked open an eye.

“Not,” Shiro repeated. 

“Not wh-what?” Hunk managed, wiping his chin against his raised arm. 

“Not going to…” Shiro’s face was drawn, pain and dizziness and confusion pressing in and it hurt so much to see. “To… To go. There.”

Shiro looked up then and when his eyes met Pidge’s she could see something besides the fear and horror she knew her own reflected.

Determination. 

Warmth.

Trust. 

“Lance,” Shiro said simply. He tipped his head back against the wall with a tiny sigh. “He’ll come.”

Pidge wanted so badly for that to be true.

For Lance to be alive, for Lance to save them, for Lance to be healthy and safe and God, never, never find out what the Galra had planned for him.

And although all the odds were against all of that.

She chose to believe it could be true.

Because hope was all they had left.

And she would hold onto it until the bitter end. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Concussions are fun* :D (*to write). If you are enjoying the fic it would mean a lot to hear from you in the comments. Thank you :)
> 
> And real quick! **Preorders have been EXTENDED to November 7** for my Langst zine, which will now feature a zine exclusive fanfiction. Ooooh :D (Poll is up on my Tumblr through Monday morning for you to vote what fic I'm writing!) The zine will be benefiting the amazing charity **The Anti-Cruelty Society.** You can **[find details to preorder on my Tumblr here.](https://icymakesazine.tumblr.com/post/629514167732387840/preorders-are-open-click-here-to-visit-the)**


	8. Eight

Lance spoke quickly about his findings of the Galra because time was short and he’d already wasted enough of it. His cheeks still heated at the fact he’d almost _cried_ in front of Keith and Matt and _Dios,_ he was absolutely pathetic to the point that _Keith_ was comforting him.

But it also…

It also made something warm fill his chest that despite the fact both Keith and Matt had every right to be angry with him, to be upset with him, they _weren’t._ They were both far too understanding and kind and Keith had been a pretty good leader, hadn’t he? And, and Matt was reminding him so much of his own siblings — sort of a cross between Marco and Veronica — and it hurt but it was nice too.

Lance still hated how things had gone down, but… but blaming himself was helping no one and although it still _felt_ like he should have done something more…

There really was nothing he could have done. He’d run the same scenario over and over and over again and nothing changed unless he’d realized ahead of time the code was bad and this was a trap but even Shiro and Allura — who had more information about the mission —and Pidge and Hunk — some of the most brilliant minds he knew — hadn’t realized it. 

So…

So why did he have this expectation that he should have? 

All he could do now was believe in their words and assurances, believe in _himself,_ and rescue his family.

Unfortunately…

They didn’t have much to go on.

Lance had flown around the base and using the scanner Coran had given him and equipped to Red he had located the signatures of the armor, more and more coming online, but as they’d feared all of them were grouped on the base. 

They were, interestingly, not in the hangar but further in the compound, which indicated someone had moved them and therefore someone was either still there or had been there.

Given the lack of heat signatures — both by the armor to indicate someone was wearing it and around the rest of the base save for what was likely the engine room based on the energy output — though no one save perhaps sentries were still there.

So too though was the Green Lion.

Lance had caught a glimpse of her, still collapsed inside the open hangar, but now with the addition of glowing purple cords criss-crossed overtop and no doubt keeping her grounded and dozens of sentires standing guard, confirming that theory. Lance had felt Red then — anger and hurt and a burning desire to free her fellow Lion — and it had taken all of his control to keep her back because the whole point of this was that no one could know they were there. 

He did wonder _why_ though. Why not take the Green Lion with them? Allura was the only one who was capable of tracking them and—

Unless they didn’t know that.

Considering the Green Lion had been affected by whatever that weapon had been too maybe the Galra assumed the same sort of crystals and coding powered it. But while the crystals were a large component of the Lions they ran on more than that: Altean magic, alchemy and quintessence. 

It was still a moot point though as they could not retrieve the Green Lion without showing their hand and so she would have to remain behind.

Just for now though, Lance had promised her. They’d come back for her too.

There was one thing missing from the open hangar though.

The weapon.

It would have been the one thing Lance knew they’d have to break cover for because it held answers, but true to their luck it was gone. 

And that…

That was all he’d been able to find out. 

Lance had tried not to hang his head when he finished because he knew it wasn’t his fault there was a lack of information, but…

But they had nothing to go on from that and at this rate they’d have to go into the base and if anyone but Coran was spotted (and the sentries had cameras and no doubt someone was watching to report back if they were breached) then the Coalition traitor would know and they couldn’t risk it. And if Coran ventured there by himself…

Well, whoever this was didn’t seem to like loose ends. And while Lance knew Coran was far stronger than he generally appeared his odds against that many sentries on his own… And if he did survive the traitor would know too that something was up because Coran had not called the Coalition for backup and there could be repercussions for both Coran and the others. 

So they were essentially stuck unless Coran wanted to dust off his acting skills and call the Coalition in a panic that something had gone wrong with the mission, but as Coran had pointed out he was often overlooked and it was safest for everyone right now for them to keep it that way: with a little luck the traitor may not have even figured Coran into their plans and why alert them at all?

Lance also trusted all of the people on the bridge without a doubt. He might have only met Matt a couple times but he felt like he knew him through Pidge and there was something about him — that older sibling feeling — that told Lance he was a good person. 

He couldn’t say the same for other Coalition members. He had seen and been a part of enough diplomatic meetings and alliance presentation to know how politics worked. Everyone had agendas and very few were in the Coalition and sharing resources and information for purely altruistic reasons. He knew, ultimately, they would all agree that Voltron was necessary to end this war.

But its Paladins?

They could be expendable.

And Lance did not want people who were thinking that, who were trying to say ‘for the greater good’ being in charge of this mission, which was exactly what would happen. Ever since the Coalition formed Lance was aware he and Hunk and Pidge had been more and more sidelined when it came to decision-making and he knew Keith too was not in charge of Blade missions but deferred to someone else and Matt wasn’t, to his knowledge although as pointed out he was on the outs in that regard to Coalition matters, heavily involved in that part of the Coalition either. 

The Coalition, if given the opportunity, would take over and he’d be sidelined and told not to interfere and pardon his Altean, but quiznack no. 

But unless they could find some sort of lead — even if they had to storm the base and give themselves away — they might have no other option because how were they supposed to find them in the entire expanse of universe? 

It was the question that they were all sitting on now, the bridge tense with silence after Coran had quietly informed all pieces of armor were accounted for and while he’d seen what direction the ships had taken off from that meant almost nothing with how big space was. 

“Um,” Matt’s face was something Lance couldn’t quite describe — hopeful and sick and worried all at once — and his eyes darted about the group, coming to rest on Keith. “I… I might know a way. To find them. But you’re not going to like it.”

“What is it, lad?” Coran asked at the same time Keith bit out a “what?” looking apprehensive given the warning but hopeful too.

“I need to see Katie’s lab.”

Lance bit his tongue to keep from asking what exactly Pidge’s lab had to do with anything as they hurried to it, a quiet, tense procession where every footfall was another second wasted. 

It was nearing two and a half hours now since the others had left the base and that was a two and a half hour lead the Galra had on them.

Matt slid into Pidge’s chair, hands flying over the keyboard, and he let out a small chuckle and a quiet, “really, Katie?” as he bypassed her apparent security features with ease and then added for their benefit, “code was my birthday,” and continued to type.

A few moments later Matt was pulling up screens so fast it made Lance’s eyes hurt and flipping through folders.

He didn’t explain what he was doing and while Coran’s lips were pursed Lance was slightly glad to see that Keith looked as clueless as he felt. 

A sharp inhale a second later had Lance startling and Coran letting out a soft murmur and Keith spoke the words Lance couldn’t as they stared at the screen.

Or, rather, the numbers on the screen.

“Are those coordinates?” Keith asked. “To the others?”

“Yeah,” Matt said softly. “It’s—”

Keith turned on his foot, clearly intending to head straight for a ship and Lance almost smiled because that was such a reckless, Keith thing to do, but he could feel that something wasn’t quite right.

“Wait!” Matt shouted. “There’s... “ his voice quieted. “There’s something else.”

He said nothing else.

But his hand was shaking ever so on the control.

“Did Pidge plant a tracker somewhere?” Lance asked into the somehow even heavier silence because they should be excited about this, right? 

“Not… not exactly,” Matt said. He wrenched his gaze from the screen, minimizing a secondary window that had popped up alongside with even more numbers and what Lance recognized only as code. “But this program is tracking something.” He took a breath. “Shiro’s arm.”

“Shiro’s… arm?” Keith repeated slowly even as his impatience was clear.

“Alteans use Balmeran crystals and quinessence, right?” Matt said in answer. “The Galra do too. But their crystals operate on a different frequency because they are forced to work with a quintessence that has been contaminated.”

Lance shuddered at the reminder. They’d seen planets that had been quintessence harvested — giant, dead places that the Druids had sucked it from, had literally sucked the life out of its people — and after seeing firsthand how the Galran’s crystal had corrupted the castle…

Why had he never realized that such an energy had to be what powered Shiro’s arm? 

That was…

That was actually pretty terrifying. 

But that couldn’t be what had made Matt uneasy since he didn’t seem surprised by that whatsoever.

“Okay, so?” Keith crossed his arms over his chest. “So what, this tracker tunes in on that specific frequency?”

“Pretty much,” Matt confirmed. “Shiro’s arm… it’s on that frequency but it’s different too compared to most Galra weaponry because of not just the crystals and the quintessence but because it’s tied to Shiro’s own untainted quintessence and it sort of makes this... just super unique combination. Nothing else like it in the universe. Literally.”

“Matt,” Coran sounded then, voice even but something heavier beneath the surface. “Why do you and your sister have this?”

Lance’s breath caught.

Oh.

_Oh._

“Katie made the tracker program after… after Shiro disappeared. Again. She told me she was working on it… just in case. And,” Matt ran a hand through his hair, “well, thank God she did.”

Keith didn’t quite slump with relief but Lance could see it passing through him and he felt the same.

This had been _after_ Shiro had gone missing. She hadn’t been sitting on it, hiding a real chance to locate Shiro, for _months_ while they searched and despaired. And by doing so… if Shiro somehow ever disappeared again they could find him.

And he had disappeared now.

But this time...

Lance sent a silent prayer of thanks to Pidge for being so amazing. Her foresight was going to save everyone and _Dios,_ she was amazing and—

“But,” and Matt swallowed. “It… it isn’t just a tracker.”

And Lance had a feeling they’d just gotten to the part that Keith wasn’t going to like.

He doubted any of them would.

“What are you saying?” Keith asked, eyes narrowed once more although something more dangerous than anger lurked there.

Fear.

Lance felt it too.

“It is a kill code,” Coran murmured.

Keith’s head snapped to him so fast but Coran was looking at Matt.

“Isn’t it?” he asked just as softly.

Matt gave the barest incline of his head.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Keith demanded.

“No one… no one really knows what happened to Shiro,” Matt said. His eyes were trained on his hands, frozen on the keyboard. “Not the first time. Not the second. I tried asking Shiro, once, but he… he didn’t want to talk. And that’s okay. I wouldn’t…” he gave a minute shiver and Lance was forcibly reminded that Matt had been a Galra prisoner at one point too and… and what _had_ happened to him there? 

“But Keith,” Matt’s eyes flicked up for the barest second, “we talked and you told me… you told me Shiro was… was a little different. And I saw it too, when we spoke. And just… we don’t _know_ what happened, what that arm is capable of and it’s Galra tech and so…”

He swallowed again. “Katie and I were working on a code designed to disable Shiro’s arm so just in case something ever happened—”

“Matt,” Keith whispered, horror clear.

“—we could stop him. And, and that’s all we wanted it to do — shut down the arm — but it’s so closely aligned with Shiro’s own quintessence that… that right now if we activated it…” 

Matt’s words were barely a whisper.

“It would kill Shiro.”

Lance felt faint.

Pidge had been working on…

She could have…

At any time, if her hand hit the wrong button…

“It’s why we locked it down,” Matt continued. “It was too dangerous to Shiro and—”

“And you should have never made it in the first place!” 

“Keith—”

“No!” Keith looked _livid_ and _terrified_ and Lance felt faint looking at him. “No! How could you…? Shiro _trusts_ us! We need to trust him! He’s _Shiro!_ Just, just because someone is acting different, they… God. God, what the _fuck,_ Matt?”

“I know!” Matt sat back from the computer with a _screech_ of the chair that had them all wincing as he rose to his feet. “I know, okay?”

“You could have killed Shiro!”

And oh _Dios,_ was Keith about to…?

Yes, he was.

Those were tears sparking in purple eyes.

Lance felt something twist in his chest.

All of this was wrong. 

“All right,” Coran stepped into the center, “that is enough. Let’s all take a breath now—”

“No!” Keith slashed an arm through the air and Lance’s eyes widened as he was not imagining it either that Keith’s scleras were turning yellow, his irises narrow, and was that a fang?, “This isn’t—”

“Keith,” Coran said his name sharply, “ _breathe.”_

Keith turned a murderous gaze in Coran’s direction.

Coran didn’t so much as blink. “This is not going to help Shiro,” was all he said. 

Keith sucked in a breath.

And he deflated in a _whoosh,_ eyes and teeth morphing back to normal.

“I understand both sides,” Coran said gently, “and what matters most is that all of this was done to _protect_ Number One. Not to hurt him. Certainly not to kill him, and both Matt and Number Five, upon realizing that risk, stopped the project. _That_ is what is important. Agreed?”

Keith gave a slow nod and Matt did too and Lance’s head was reeling but he nodded too. 

“I’m sorry for keeping it from you,” Matt said quietly, gaze directed back at Keith. 

“I’m sorry for yelling,” Keith said just as quietly. 

“C’mere,” Matt opened his arms. “I need a hug.”

And to Lance’s utter surprise Keith gave a tiny sigh of token protest and did so. 

He was beginning to realize how much he didn’t really know Keith. Not really. He knew he’d known Shiro and Shiro obviously knew Matt which meant Keith would know Matt but they seemed to be close and what did Lance know at all about really either of them?

He…

He hadn’t been a very good friend to Keith before, had he?

“There we go,” Coran smiled gently as Matt gave Keith a final squeeze and they stepped apart. “Let’s focus now and note that those precautions regarding Number One’s arm are going to help find him and save the team. But I do hope, young Matt, that you had a reason for mentioning this… other project?”

Because Matt hadn’t had to, Lance realized. He could have ended with the tracking bit and no one would have known. 

Matt nodded. “I do. But… but it’s dangerous.”

“What is it?” Keith’s voice was more even, calm now. 

Listening.

“So Coran explained how whatever this weapon and code the Coalition provided knocked out the Altean armor, right?”

Nods around the room.

“I think it’s some sort of electro magnetic pulse but, obviously, not electric in nature. It stopped the crystals temporarily and that shut down the power source. Armor, weapons, comms… all of it. And _all_ of Altean technology runs on Balmeran crystals and I know a good chunk of the Rebels do too. Keith?”

“The Blades run on the power in luxite,” Keith said, “but yeah, Balmeran crystals too.”

“So we’re very disadvantaged,” Matt said. “As soon as they activate that weapon — and for all we know they could be doing pulses at intervals — we’re as good as dead because everything we have is going to become useless. But… but if we were to hack that weapon and input a signal to suppress the Galra coded crystals instead…”

“We could take down the entire base,” Keith breathed.

“We could take down the _Empire,”_ Lance whispered, hands trembling. 

They could turn the Galra’s own weapon against them. 

They could…

They could end this war. 

“But,” Matt held up a hand. “The issue here. If we did that… I don’t know how it’ll affect Shiro’s arm. Obviously I’d modify the code,” he gestured at the screen, “because at the moment it will _only_ affect Shiro. But… but his arm is still running that same Galra crystal configuration and if it were to short out so suddenly I don’t… I don’t know what it would do to him. He…” Matt swallowed thickly. “He could…”

He let it hang.

Lance heard it loud and clear anyway.

He could die.

Shiro could die.

And they would be the ones to kill him.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coran, Coran the gorgeous man (and voice of reason). Oh how I love him so ♥ *passes out Coran appreciation buttons*  
> If you're enjoying the fic it would mean a lot to hear from you in the comments. Thank you ♥


	9. Nine

“No,” Keith vetoed the idea. “Absolutely not.”

He was still coming to terms with the fact Matt had been working on a code that could have  _ killed Shiro  _ and now they were right back to that again?

Fuck no. 

There had to be another way. 

“If I might suggest an alternative,” Coran said. “What if the arm was not connected to Number One when we activated our own pulse?”

Keith’s breath caught.

Remove…

Shiro’s arm?

“I have seen it,” Coran continued, “as Number One has been a visitor to the cryo-pods several times and it was necessary to program the pods to accomodate a metal limb, that the arm is connected — welded, in a sense — with a mixture of both metal and magic that allows it to connect to the quintessence system and gives Number One control over it. I cannot say it would not be painful but… but I do believe between myself, Allura and Numbers Two and Five — for quintessence and engineering, respectively — we may be able to remove it.”

And if it wasn’t connected to Shiro…

Matt gave a nod. “That… that would work,” he said slowly. “But just one tiny hiccup to that.”

“We could split up,” Lance suggested hesitantly, eyes flicking up before quickly down. 

Keith frowned.

He wasn’t opposed to the suggestion, but it was the way it was being suggested that bothered him.

Lance had always loud, annoyingly so. It had tempered some when… when Shiro had gone missing and after Keith had been made the Black Paladin and Lance moved to Red and Keith had gotten glimpses of a different personality; quieter and more thoughtful but still passionate and loud and he hadn’t realized until he’d joined the Blades and their always silent base how much he’d actually come to appreciate that noise. 

But this?

This was none of that.

Seeing Lance break down as he had, so insistent he was at fault… 

It had hurt to watch.

And then Keith had made it worse and he hadn’t meant to but understanding people was  _ not  _ one of his strong suits and motivational speaking even less so. He’d been working on it, trying to do his best because Shiro had always believed he could be a leader (although… although he seemed to have changed his mind and Keith was still trying hard not to let that hurt as much as it did because he knew Shiro and Shiro would never intentionally hurt him and he’d been through  _ so  _ much and if being the Black Paladin helped him, then… then Keith would gladly surrender the role) but he still tended to muck things up.

Things were better now, Keith thought, but given how  _ quiet  _ Lance still was there was still a ways to go. 

And he would do his best to help.

“I think that’s a good idea,” Keith said, nodding in Lance’s direction and grateful when he got a small smile in return. 

Matt tapped his chin. “It’s all going to depend on  _ where  _ they’re taking the others. Right now,” he gestured at the screen where the coordinates had changed, “they’re traveling and the coordinates are pinging based on satellites in the area. We’ll get an accurate read once they reach their destination but we need to identify it first. We could try and catch them while they’re still airborne but the readings aren’t exact.”

“So we need them to land?” Lance clarified.

Matt nodded. “That would be best. Coran reported they had a large number of battle ships with them and we’re greatly outnumbered for an aerial fight. We also can’t allow them to see us coming because _all_ of our ships run on crystals and if they are running their crystal pulse we will be dead in the water. It’s why we need to take that out _fast.”_

“But we can’t take it out until Shiro’s safe,” Lance said and he caught Keith’s eye and it was Keith that time giving a small smile.

Yes.

Exactly.

“Which is why I think not only is splitting up the best idea…” Matt glanced to Lance. “I think we also need someone to play the role of bait to draw their attention. And I think you’re the best option. They don’t know about any of us but you’d have the best and most viable reason to be there and, if this commander is as prepared as he seems, he’s likely still on alert for you and that could make infiltrating even harder. But if he were to find you then he’ll be focused on you and not anything else and that gives us the best odds. But,” Matt licked his lips, “it would mean you’d have to go in completely unarmed as that’s what they’d be expecting.”

Next to him Keith heard Coran take in a sharp inhale and he felt his own breath hitch at how… how  _ dangerous  _ that was. That was his level of crazy, reckless, stupid ideas.

And yet…

Yet it made a lot of sense.

Lance visibly swallowed but nodded after a second, squaring his shoulders. “I can do that.”

“Lance,” Coran murmured.

“It’s okay, Coran,” Lance’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “If, if playing the bait gives everyone else the best chance then I’ll do it.”

Keith’s frown grew.

He did not like that response.

It felt too…

Too much like Lance was still trying to make up for a wrong he had not committed.

“Great,” Matt said, clapping his hands although when Keith looked to him he saw the same concern he was feeling, but now was not the time to call attention to it.

Later though. 

Keith wasn’t going to let this go again.

“We can take the Blade shuttle,” Matt continued, “since its the best camouflaged and doesn’t run entirely on crystals so if it does get caught up in a pulse we should be able to still maneuver some. We’ll get to the base, drop Lance off and get him in, and then we’ll enter at an opposite point. He’ll draw their attention and I’ll get us in, disable cameras and locate both the others and the weapon. Then, Coran, you and Keith will go to the cells and I’ll head for the weapon. We’ll be in contact and once you alert that Shiro’s arm is off—” Keith tried not to wince at how  _ wrong  _ that sounded “— I’ll input the new kill code and take control of the weapon. Then their base and all their weapons go down and then we’ll secure the base and find out  _ who  _ is behind this and take necessary actions. Any questions?”

“How are you going to disable the weapon?” Keith asked.

Matt raised an eyebrow as he gestured at the computer.

“I think,” Lance raised his hand, “Keith meant how are you going to get past the defensives? There’s bound to be sentries at least stationed by it, right?”

Matt opened his mouth and then closed it with a tap.

“That is an excellent question.”

“If I may,” Coran said, “I think it would make the most logical sense for Keith to accompany Matt and I will, what is that Earth phrase, float solo?”

“Fly,” Lance automatically corrected.

Keith barely heard him.

No.

No, he wanted to go with Coran.

He wanted — needed — to be with Shiro. 

Keith had no doubts Coran had been truthful when he said the removal could be painful. And not only that… while Shiro didn’t — wouldn’t, maybe couldn’t — talk to him about his time with the Galra and Haggar, Keith could only imagine how  _ painful  _ it had been, how terrifying. And to have someone — even with the best intentions — trying to remove his arm and causing him pain?

God, no.

But…

But he couldn’t afford to be selfish. 

Lance was  _ acting as bait  _ to Galrans who he’d escaped from once and Keith couldn’t imagine they would be just willing to forget that part. They were no doubt going to hurt Lance and he knew it too.

And if Lance was willing to go through that there was no way Keith could justify his own personal wishes to be with Shiro during the field surgery. He was going to have to trust Coran and the rest of his te— his  _ old  _ team, he wasn’t a Paladin anymore and he couldn’t let himself forget that — to take care of Shiro so he could protect Matt and recover the weapon so that it was never used to hurt them again. 

“—eith? Hey,” a dark hand waved in front of his face and he blinked once, twice, Lance coming into focus. “You with us?” he asked.

“Yeah.” Keith straightened, trying not to flush.

“I’ll need time to rework the code,” Matt said, “at least a couple hours.”

Keith bit his tongue at the protest to that because he didn’t want to wait that long, but he knew Matt would be going as fast as he could and if he said a couple hours then he needed it.

“That time will allow us to make additional preparations,” Coran said. “We shall continue to fly aboard the castle in the best direction we can off the coordinates and I shall prepare us for a wormhole jump when we are closer; my connection with the castle is not so strong as Allura’s but I should be able to get us within a few pylans of the base and we can take the shuttle from there. I shall also look into getting us all armor and weapons that do not rely on crystals so if we do encounter this crystal suppressor we will still be able to fight, as well as preparing… preparing the tools I will need for Number One’s arm.”

Silence fell once more but this time it felt purposeful.

Determined.

“All right, let’s hop to it,” Coran placed a hand on both Lance and Keith’s shoulders. 

Keith allowed himself to be steered out of the hangar turned laboratory, Matt saying he would stay there to work, and Coran directed him and Lance to where a secondary armory was located with instructions to find suitable crystal-less items for the three of them while he continued to the bridge to begin piloting the castle to the trail of coordinates. 

“So,” Lance’s voice broke the quiet as the door closed behind them. “You have a sword already that won’t be affected but do you want a second one? Coran showed me a bunch over here when I was getting the pilot armor. And we’ll need to find Matt a new staff. Coran one too, actually. I had no idea he could fight with a staff but apparently he’s pretty good at it?”

Keith’s eyes widened as Lance kept up the stream of one-sided conversation, talking now about some story Coran had told him about when he served in the King’s army.

Lance was rambling.

Lance talked a lot and often, but not like this.

He also wasn’t meeting Keith’s eyes, firmly focused on the weapons and armor all mish-moshed in the room as he picked through it.

“— guns are pretty useless since they don’t run on anything but crystals up here so it makes even more sense that I’m the bait—”

“Lance,” Keith tried to cut in.

“—because I’d be absolutely useless if I was fighting. I mean, I have zero idea how to use this,” Lance swung the staff he’d apparently selected in front of him, “and I’d probably just trip over it—”

“Lance—”

“And I’m sure it’d be pretty hilarious actually, but definitely not gonna help the others and—”

“Lance!”

Lance’s mouth shut with an audible click. 

“What are you doing?”

At that Lance finally turned to look at him, an eyebrow raised and a smirk tugging up his lips.

It still didn’t reach his eyes.

“Uh,” he waved the staff, “weapon shopping? Remember?”

Keith only stared.

Lance looked away first. 

“Sorry,” he whispered. “Let’s just… just find what we need, okay? Say,” he tried to smile, “you like this armor?” he tapped his chest. “Not like I need it and I think it might fit you okay and there doesn’t seem to be too many plain sets lying around. The Alteans really like their tech, don’t they?”

Keith said nothing, frowning and trying to figure out what he was missing because something was not right here, and Lance seemed to take that as a yes as he said, “Okay, this one’s yours. Help me find something for Matt now. Coran said he didn’t want any since they won’t reform if he shifts.”

Lance didn’t seem to be expecting an answer as he resumed his search, suspiciously quiet now.

Keith repeated back all that Lance had said, trying to figure out if it meant anything. 

His eyes widened a second later.

Oh.

_ Oh.  _

Lance was…

Lance was  _ scared.  _

Keith had seen Lance both talk himself up before a big mission — and it used to annoy him beyond belief because it was so self-centered and cocky until he’d realized once he’d become Black Paladin that Lance did that to try and reassure himself — and tell stories and make jokes and ramble about anything and everything to settle his nerves.

This was the same thing.

Lance was scared about being the bait, about going into an enemy base defenseless and alone and knowing he was going to be captured, going to likely be hurt, but doing so anyways because everyone was counting on him.

“You’re going to be okay.”

The words were out before Keith could think them over but he realized he didn’t want to change them as Lance froze.

“You’re going to be okay,” Keith repeated. 

“Of, of course I am,” Lance said, hands on his hips and affront on his face.

But Keith could see past it now that he knew what to look for.

And dark ocean eyes could not hide the fear.

“Just don’t do anything reckless—”

“Like you’re one to talk,” Lance shot back although it lacked any heat.

“And you’ll be okay. Because we will save you. We will, Lance. I promise.”

And Keith knew he’d actually gotten it right when Lance didn’t speak again, didn’t protest that that wasn’t it, that he didn’t need saved. 

“Just… just don’t take too long, okay?” Lance mustered up a smile but this one at least, while a little wavery, looked real. He turned away before Keith could figure out what exactly to say to that — that was rhetorical, right? — and said, “Okay, so seriously, do you want a second sword? Because that’d be pretty awesome, just saying.”

“Sure,” Keith shrugged, stepping forward. “Why not?”

“Why not?” Lance parroted back at him, but he was smiling, almost a grin even. “Okay then samurai, how’s this one?”

“That’s a broadsword,” Keith said flatly although his lips were twitching.

“So?”

“So you need two hands to wield it.”

“How about this then?”

Lance hefted out the largest sword Keith had ever seen, grunting as he strained to lift it up. “How’s… how’s this?”

“Perfect.”

“R-really?” 

Lance’s eyes widened as Keith smirked. “You’re joking! You’re actually joking. Wow, I never thought I’d see the day.”

“I do have a sense of humor, you know,” Keith said, not sure if he should be offended or not.

“Yeah, your hairstyle,” Lance teased. His expression softened then. “We’ve… we’ve really missed you, mullet. Mullet and all.”

“I’ve missed you guys too, Keith said, realizing how true it was as he said it.

He really did.

“After… after this is over and everyone is safe you should come around more,” Lance said. “Coran showed us this sort of Dungeons and Dragons game and Hunk has been looking for someone new to try recipes on and, well… we miss you.”

He said it so sincerely, no hint of mockery or jest, and Keith felt something both warm and tight squeezing in his chest. 

“I’d… I’d like that,” he said softly and tried to ignore the stinging in his eyes at the thought that someone actually wanted to spend time with  _ him.  _

“Great,” Lance smiled and that time it fully reached his eyes. “Come on then, let’s find you an actual sword so we can get this rescue underway.”

Keith wanted nothing more.

And he plunged into the armory behind Lance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are enjoying the fic it would mean a lot to hear from you. Thank you :)


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